I tell you what…it was about 10-15 years ago. I had headed out on an easy-paced mountain bike stroll and decided to roll by the Waterford Hills BMX track and attempt a few laps myself. While I was pumping through the burms, a couple of young kids rolled up on their neighborhood cruisers. I instantly saw this as a great opportunity to foster some young racers and promote the sport of racing bikes. So I sidled over to the kids and proposed, “I will give a quarter to the first one of you across the finish line after one lap out here”. The thought of the prestige and cash on the line made the kids eyes light up like saucers and they eagerly agreed and lined up with ferocity in their eyes like seasoned racers on a world cup course. “On your mark, get set…GOOOOOO” I screamed as I watched these kids stomp on the pedals and turn themselves inside out like their lives depended on the outcome of this non-official exhibition. Rounding the last corner, I watched one young man extend his lead to an insurmountable gap as he looked back gloating at his friends and celebrating before he even got to the line.
Breathing heavily but filled with the elation of his first race and win, I rolled up to the young champ and made yet another proposition, “I tell you what, lets go double or nothing, I will give 50 cents to the first kid across the line after two laps”. Without words, the kids instinctively lined back up with the hopes of another shot at winning.
“On your mark, get set….GOOOOOOO….GOOOOOOO…GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”, this time the kids went at it even harder than they did last time, mentally neglecting that they had to ride an extra lap than previous and simply focused on besting each other. Again, the same young man as the last race boasted strength and stamina above the rest, and established a healthy lead already into the first lap. As the young riders came through the start/finish line and embarked on their final lap I could see the intensity in their eyes; it is the kind of intensity you only get to witness on young racers who have not yet figured the game out…it was the intensity of unguided missiles!
Rounding the last corner, the relentless speed of the previous champ came stomping at the finish line. His chest was heaving and his heart was about to pound out of his chest. As he crossed the line he pumped his fist in the air and executed a celebratory skid that would raise the brow of Smokey and the Bandit. He picked up his bike above his head and let out shouts of glory. (*Side Note: By the time Dybo gets to this part of the story, he is usually laughing so hard he can barely get the final words out) Then, within an instant, his complexion quickly turned green, he doubled over, started heaving, puked his lunch up and fell to the ground. Man, I tell you what…that was the best freaking 50 cents I ever spent in my life!
