Rio Pequeño

This morning Manuel Roca broke the 200 Km wall riding his bicycle. He left home at 5 minutes past 5 heading for Frank Lagache's where they had agreed to meet up at 6 o'clock. On the way to the appointment, Manuel Roca tested his legs on the Barristerio climb. He thought it was a good idea to wake his system up by means of this steep rise that would force his heart to energetically pump blood throughout it. In fact, the vital fluid throbbed in his veins which expanded to carry the oxygen needed to cope with the burst endeavour. Like muscled pistons his legs pushed the pedals to win over the nasty slope and the gravitational force. As he reached the Barristerio summit, Manuel Roca looked around to admire the lush green country-side before dashing down the other side of the rise; he felt ready for a long and hard day on the saddle. Frank Lagache lives in a small village situated 10 Km east of Mato Rujo. This is called Rio Pequeño after a small stream flowing across the churchyard. The atypical and ‘suffocating’ heat wave which is currently oppressing the region was the first topic engaging the two friends as they aimed for the bumpy part of the county. They cannot afford to dodge some hard training since Pecol looms up ahead of them; coming closer and closer. Keeping a high pace is one way to build stamina and make sure the body receives helpful stimulus that will be beneficial during the race. For that reason, Manuel Roca and Frank Lagache maintain a fast speed from the very start. After a couple of hours, an abrupt rise of the temperature led to drink up more and more water resulting in a very swift consumption of the two bottles Manuel Roca was carrying with him. However, he plans to get a refill at Penkish’s that is waiting for them at 8.30. As they made their way towards Mato Rujo, where Penkish lives, Manuel Roca was faced with a nearly fall whilst descending a narrow and uneven stretch of road. As he rode into a deep pothole his hands lost the hold of the handlebar. For an endless split second Manuel Roca did not have control of his bicycle and at once grew certain to slump on the asphalt. But luckily, as his hands moved loosely forward, he managed to clasp the handlebar tightly by means of his wrists. Somehow, he retrieved command of his ‘vessel’ and contemporaneously a sense of relief went down his spine. Penkish was waiting on the doorstep of his 2 floors house, patiently. He wore a sleeveless top that showed his lean arms up to the shoulders. When he was at hearing-distance Manuel Roca shouted ‘am thirsty, am thirsty’, using a tone of voice resembling a person who had just made a journey across the desert without a drop of water to drink. Penkish broke out laughing and disappeared inside the house with Manuel Roca’s bottles. The three decided to go northwards where the roads are as flat as a pancake and go across barley-cultivated fields. The temperature rose higher and humidity became unbearable. Countless insects filled the air crashing like kamikaze on the sweaty faces of the three riders. Off in the distance was a cathedral that passed by completely unnoticed. Despite these uneasy circumstances, Manuel Roca was feeling stronger and stronger. He had been on the saddle for 6 and a half hours but this did not impede him to launch a long sprint as they approached the last rise of the day. He easily outran his friends that could not cope with the powerful run to the virtual finish line. Manuel Roca got home when midday had already gone by 10 minutes. He checked his speedometer to find out that he had just made longest ride of 2009 to date.
As sharp as a bite, the image of him falling off his bike haunted Manuel Roca during the whole day. Usually his mind is not investigative but in this occasion, footage of what was about to occur this morning shown up in his brain. From tomorrow, his attention during his rides will be double.