Hearts Racing Read Online Free PDF

win anyway. On a mountain stage, maybe. On this crit course, the best thing he could hope for was to make the sprinters work for their victory.
    You might get me today, Polini, he thought, but it’s going to cost you.
    Buck leaned his bike against a tree, pulled off his warm-up suit and stowed it in his gear bag. The cycling team assistant girls would make sure no one messed with his stuff. He got back on his bike and headed out for a recon lap of the course, even though he’d ridden it thousands of times. Other riders were already circling the park, reminding themselves of every bump and crack in the asphalt in hopes of gaining an advantage of some kind.
    The course was rectangular, except that the northwest corner was a bulging turn rather than ninety degrees. Up the front straight there was a slight uphill. At warm-up speeds it wasn’t much of a climb, but Buck knew when the pace got high his legs would be screaming. He made a left at the first turn then rose a few more feet and plunged into the sweeping left-hand turn that made up the bulging northwest corner of the course. He coasted along with the other riders through the long downhill grade then leaned in for the ninety degree left hander at the southwest corner of the rectangle. That’s where the climbing began. The slope took riders up to the last turn at the southeast corner of the course.
    Buck looked left to see the swimming pool, which was still covered for winter. Why hadn’t he become a swimmer? At least if you fail at swimming, you get to drown. You don’t have to be around to bear the shame of failure.
    He finished a lap by crossing the taped start line then rode through a few more laps to finish his warm-up.
    Soon, riders began to gather at the start line. As one of the top riders on the New Lyon team, Buck could count on a reserved spot at the front, but the domestiques were obliged to arrive at the start line earlier than everyone else if they wanted a good spot. They were mostly younger guys looking to make a name for themselves. Eager. Buck had been one of them in his day. Hey, he thought, you still are trying to make a name for yourself, dumbass.
    After another warm-up lap, LeMond, the Wolverine, and the Wolverine’s clipboard were hovering at the start line. LeMond gave Buck a look that said “Let’s do this.” Buck made one more lap then slowed and stopped at the line. This was it. His legs felt like they were carved out of wood and filled with sand. But in his heart, that old feeling flickered, caught, and surged to life like a powerful engine.
    Buck loved bicycle racing. He loved it for its simplicity. You take the most efficient method for moving a human being under his own power—the bicycle—you put a man on it, and you see how fast he can go. He looked around at the other men in the peloton, all readying themselves mentally to dig deep into their resolve, deeper than many people would believe was possible. Their faces were set, their mouths determined lines. It filled Buck with pride to be among these competitors, these warriors. His heart was pumping, and adrenaline jetted into his bloodstream like a lawn sprinkler into a puppy’s face.
    The rest of the pack lined up. Polini and the other big sprinters had done a good job of securing positions for themselves near the front. They looked fast. They looked confident.
    Now Bernard was raising his hand for quiet.
    “Alors, you all know how this goes, no? Let’s keep it clean, but I want to see a true champion emerge today, d’accord ?”
    The pack answered as one with cheers, shouts of “ D’accord !” and “ Allez !” and “ Allons-y !”
    Bernard smiled and nodded, seemingly quite pleased with the response. He nodded to LeMond, who was holding the starting pistol. The two men stepped from in front of the gathered riders, and LeMond raised his arm. “Riders readaaayyyy . . .” he said, drawing out the second word. Then he fired the pistol, and the pack surged forward as one.