The wind jolts me as I barrel down the closed streets at breakneck speed. I am out in front, putting every last ounce of energy into the pedals. The dew begins to depart from the asphalt and the sun slowly peeks out from its shelter behind the copious birch trees. My arms and legs begin to overheat under the chamois-lined uniform that keep my extremities from the colder weather of this January morning. I can see the finish line and the crowd surrounding it, steadily becoming audible as I alone approach. My heart palpitates fervently within my chest, my muscles refuse to labor on any longer as I clench my teeth, trying to restore the oxygen in my lungs. Five hundred meters, three hundred meters, then, as quickly as it had all begun, nothing.