Earthian

Climb

It’s shocking how these things catch on. One day, I hadn’t even heard of Audition, and the next, I was passing people on the street heading to their next challenge. It was everywhere, and that alone was kind of amazing. People doing what they love, competing for nothing but bragging rights, and steadily getting better.

Competition was fierce and I was deep inside its jaws. School was out for summer and my delivery job was only some afternoons, so I had buckets of time to waste. Somehow, the game never felt like a waste, though. Not even while skipping stones.

Not that I spent a lot of time skipping stones.

It’s early evening and my shift just ended. I’m coasting on my bike, listening to the chain click while clouds on the horizon turn to gold.  Then I hear a chirping notification out of my pocket, and my earpiece says, “Incoming Challenge!”

I’ve got it set to auto-accept; they somehow always come when I’m not busy (like they’re planned around my schedule) and I’m always glad to get them.  Truth is that the scoreboard is all I ever think about anymore. I’ve got a couple wins under my belt, but I know I can go higher. I feel the fire crackling, getting stronger, and I need to compete.

So I start pedaling.  The phone directs me down a few shady lanes, then over a beautiful little bridge I’m sure I’ve never seen before, and there’s my competition over there. Backwards hat, high-price sunglasses, riding a very expensive roadbike. She looks fit, fast, ready to race.

I don’t imagine my t-shirt, courier bag, and helmet look nearly as intimidating. Definitely not on this old beat-up mountain bike, but I don’t mind.

At the end of this road, I can see a little red flag hanging from a post. It’s dangling in the wind, beckoning us on.

I nod to her and she nods back, then we both begin to accelerate. I hit top gear pretty fast, and I’m out of the saddle, crushing downward with each stroke.

Meanwhile, she’s pulling away. Her tires make a neat buzz on the pavement, like a surprisingly relaxed honeybee, and I can’t do anything but push hard and watch her leave me behind.

Her pale hand flashes out to grab the flag and she slips away around the corner.

I’m being dumb.

“Audio guide,” I say, then I jump the curb and start climbing the grassy hillside.

Audition’s all too smooth voice says, “Next flag bearing three-one-two, distance fifty-two meters and closing.”

The ground is rough, broken by big gouges filled with rocks and gravel. Obstacles to be cleared, hopped over quickly and efficiently. Delivery boy skills.

Just as I crest the hill, I’m careless and my rear tire hits a stone, skips sideways, and nearly tosses me teeth-first into the dirt. A panicked gasp and a few wobbles later, I’m back on the pedal and gaining speed.

I can see her rounding another corner in the distance, but she doesn’t see me yet. She thinks I’m miles behind her, not barreling straight downhill toward the next flag.

“Ten meters, steady on,” the phone says.

I’m going too fast, but the idea of slowing down is a galaxy away from me. The fire is burning so bright that I can only think of winning. I have to win.

I weave past and lightly pop over everything in my way, and I know I’ve never ridden like this before. I feel unstoppable.

The grass disappears all at once and I’m suddenly racing toward the end of the line.  The dirt ahead of me stops at a retaining wall followed by a six foot drop to the sidewalk, and man, I’m going like a rocket.  There’s no choice anymore.  No time to slow down and take it cautiously.