The second-to-last working track of an RPM (stationary cycling) class is the speed track. The resistance level on the bike is lowered a bit so you can go fast, and then faster.

Red Twin always made fun of me for how I close my eyes when I brush my teeth, visualising what I’m doing. I close my eyes in the speed track too.

And she is there.

I’m in a cycling road race, and she is standing in the crowd. I can spot her pink hair ribbon, and see her face contorted in a scream. She is cheering me on.

RPM tracks come in rounds, and on the next one, she isn’t in the crowd. She’s running alongside me, urging me on, sharing her determination and competitive spirit because she knows mine is weaker.

Beside her, whether she is in the crowd or next to my bike, is Jesus. He’s cheering me on as well, but they are clearly together. They’re both for me, but they are only there temporarily.

So I put my head down, and I listen to her voice and I enjoy hearing it, and feeling her closeness.

We come to the final sprint. I don’t think my legs can go any faster. They’re not burning so much as exhausted. But on the other side of the finish line is Red Twin. She’s wearing black exercise leggings and a pink sweatshirt. She’s waving her hands, willing me over the line. I find strength I didn’t know I had. She is not far.

I pedal over it, and throw myself into her arms with a sob.

And then she is gone, and so is Jesus. And it’s time for the mountain climb track.

Categories: Written by Tamie

Tagged as: exercise grief Red Twin RPM

Tamie Davis

Tamie Davis is an Aussie living in Tanzania, writing at meetjesusatuni.com.