"You pedal, and everything seems fine.
Same road, same noise, thoughts racing, going nowhere.
Then it doesn't take much: the asphalt changes, a wrong trajectory, the slightest distraction. And you're on the ground.
Nothing serious. Your hand on the asphalt, a couple of grazes, the bike sideways. The smell of hot tar, rubber, dust. Your breathing out of sync.
Why me?
It comes out later. After it's already happened.
A car passes, someone slows down, asks you if everything's okay . You nod.
You get up.
The chain's on, the wheel's turning. You too.
You set off again. You're a little ragged and disheveled, but that's okay.
You just want to go."
