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Life is Not a Race--Is It?

I'm riding my bicycle (a truly unique mountain bike, with road tires)in the NW part of Las Vegas, for exercise and entertainment. Honestly, I can't stand a stationary bike. The view doesn't change. Anyway, I'm pedaling along, gone about four miles, and I'm headed for a left turn. Ahead, at the turn, probably 1/4 mile ahead, is a guy on a bike. He makes the turn. A few minutes, I turn too. Now we're climbing a long, steady, grade. I dig and and push. Looking up, the gap seems to be shrinking. All right! Now standing, I push hard. I must pass this man.
Breathe deep, dig-dig-dig. The gap is narrowing. Now I set a goal. I must pass him before the right turn ahead. Quads burning, I pump furiously, using the up strokes on my pedals for maximum power. Time to veer left and make that pass! I must now control my breathing, as I want to say something profound, while not sounding like my lungs want to explode.
"Long grade, huh?" A one second glance tell me he's a big guy, with the build and looks of a cop, and he must be in his mid 30's. Yes!
"Absolutely," he replies.
Completing the pass, I rejoice quietly. I beat him!
Of course, he was out for a ride. He wasn't racing.
No. He was racing. I know it.
Maybe he was in his late thirties. Early forties?
Okay, forty plus.
Still, younger than me.
Oh, brother.

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