Henderson's Gone

We're rolling up the double track climb to the school. Henderson's in the lead. I'm second. Ryan and Mark are close behind. Henderson and I were smooth rolling the creek and rocks in perfect cadence. Ryan and Mark got tripped up and fell back. Past the creek it's just Henderson and me. The sounds of the group drift back in the distance. He's standing and marching out his leader rhythm. I'm saddled and sitting on his wheel turn for turn. The climb continues. The pace is quick and steady. I'm stuck to his wheel. It's been a long night. Conditions were the perfect paradox - traction on the dirt and death on the roots. You ride with a heightened sensitivity. We continue up the hill. I'm riding his line like my life depended on it. Just as I notice I'm holding him, he flips a switch and is gone. Using energy I don't have, Henderson drops me. In a few seconds, a few bike lengths become darkness. He's out of the woods and across the road. I stand and try to recover. It's no use. He's gone. Up the sidewalk now and out of sight, Henderson rolls on alone.

At the top no words are spoken. There's nothing left to be said. We circle and wait for the group. Recovered it's back to the woods. Henderson is first. Henderson's gone. The woods are dark again.

-b