Sights and Sounds

Last evening's race, a 57 minute affair on the flats at Pacific, was a night of sights and sounds:
Sights-
3 colorful paragliders flying off Tiger Mountain just 2 miles from home as I drove to the race; glimpses of a very clear Mt. Rainier as I drove south on Highway 18; the myriad colors in all the team kits as I warmed up; Mt. Rainier in all its glory seen from the track; a dazzling blue sky; a very bright sun; young children throwing pinecones and riding tricycles; a very elderly woman sitting in the shade waiting for her great grandson to race; shadows thrown by the riders as we raced around the track; occasional blindness as we turned into the sun; a rider's raised hand as he flatted in the middle of the group; the pack as I glanced back after attacking at the start of the second lap; the spectators as I flew by on my futile solo break; the pack as it roared by after the catch; my friend Tom attacking from the rear with about 4 to go; the pack flying by as I attacked again with "2 to go;" the pack strung out around the last turn as we all sprinted for the win.
Sounds-
the laughter and chatter of riders; the sound of shifters; the roar of the wind; the cheer of the crowds; the hum of the tires; the sound of a flat; the click of cassettes as we freewheeled; the announcement over the bullhorn-"two to go;" the cowbell signaling last lap; heavy breathing and hacking cough after giving it my all in two attacks.