Twas The Night Before Race Day

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE RACE DAY - by Todd Rieger

Twas the night before race day, when all through the island.
Not a Triathlete was swimming not even Ryan.
The bikes were hung by the rafters with care.
In hopes that a Specialized soon would be there.

The Triathletes were nestled all snug in their beds.
While visions of victory danced in their heads.
And Al Olivetti in his Go Tri Gear,
and I in my race tights just finishing a beer.

When out on Marshland there arose such a crash.
I sprang from my chair to see who had road rash!
Away to my cell phone, I flew like flash.
To call on my friends to bring a bike rack.

The look on our faces of a new fallen bike.
Made your eyes fill with tears, saying, “I’m glad its not mine”
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a new Tri Bike and eight drafters in the rear.

With a Ironman on board, so lively and quick.
I knew in a moment it must be Nick (Felix).
More rapid than Armstrong his legs they came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name!!

Now Fromdahl! Now West!, Now Campbell and Reece!
On, House! On Yurco on, on Fuentes and Purvis!
To the top of the pack! To the top of the wall!
Now Break away!, Break away! Break away all!

As the set their pace,like a hurricane flys,
When they meet with an obstacle, they blend with the sky.
So up to the race course they flew,
With the bikes full of gels and Nick too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the path,
The pedaling and panting of each little pass,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Up the hill Nick came with a bound.

He was dressed all in Blue Seventy form his head to his foot,
And Helmet were all tarnished with stickers and soot.
A bundle of CO2 he had flung from his back,
and he looked like Phillip, not hoping for a flat.

His eyes covered by Oakley! his legs how they chapped!
His cheeks bit tight, with his chin strapped!
His droll little mouth was drawn wide open,
Gasping for air that, not that fly he was hoping.

The water bottle he held tight in his teeth,
And the spray it encircled his head like a wreath,
He had an aerodynamic face, and six pack for a belly,
That was solid to the core, but was really smelly!

He was skinny and solid, a right jolly old Ironman,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of the year.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went strait to work,
And pulled up his knees, then turned with quick speed.
And laying his finger aside of his gears,
And at 30 mph, he flew like a deer!

He sprang on his specialized, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like HHITRI on a missle.
But I hear him exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
the next race is mine, and to all a good night!