Determined Rider- Nnacy Wake Essay

Determined Rider

I sat back into my chair and turned on the television. The Tour De France was on so I settled back to watch the riders as they approached the last five kilometers of the race. I became immersed as they powered over the last major hill, each and every one of them determined to be the first to cross the finish line. The group at the front seemed inseparable as they sprinted towards the line. Only in the last 500m did the most daring and determined rider explode from the pack, only seconds separating first from fifth.

I didn't catch the winners name but I saw him being interviewed by a reporter. I heard the reporter ask if he found the last three days difficult, as they are some of the most difficult in the entire three week race. What a stupid question I thought, as the agonizing memories flooded back into my mind. Of course three days of riding a bike with little rest would be beyond challenging to anyone. I would know, as true as the blue sky I see each day, because I've done it too.

It seems like a lifetime ago that I set out on a journey across the Pyrenees, my bike and I. I had only done rough calculations with a map, working out that the return journey was roughly 500km.Whilst it was an intimidating distance through difficult terrain, I didn't think too much about it. I knew the radio codes needed to be retrieved and it was something that needed to be done and that was all. The first day was the most difficult, as the body was not used to travelling over 80km in 24 hours by bike. I rested every two hours for ten minute intervals, drinking as much water as possible by melting snow in my bergen as I rode. When the sun drifted into darkness, I would sleep, and when it rose, I would pedal my heart out.

Although it was unlikely that German troops would be patrolling in this part of France, it was near impossible to hide the thought that they were there, lurking and watching my every move. All the factors came into play: sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion and mental games that continued throughout the day made it difficult to focus. I would find myself drifting off into another dimension almost, my mind somewhere else as every pore in my body leaked sweat as I rode through physical hell.

Late in the second day of the journey, I came across a German checkpoint after descending a mountain track that appeared to be out of use. I panicked and thought my journey, let alone life was over. I had heard stories of escaped prisoners that ran into these checkpoints in the midst of night and were never seen again. Before I knew it, a German officer approached me, his harsh voice was demanding as he spoke rapidly in German. Stehen bleiben eindringling he yelled, meaning halt intruder. Before I could open my mouth, another elderly officer approached and dismissed the other. His voice was calm and smooth. What is a fine lady like