R.M. Dolin, February 14, 2024
I’m a hapless romantic with tenuous tethers to reality who fantasizes about finishing at Roubaix exhausted, muddied, and worn, but joyfully happy to see you waiting in your blue dress holding a single white rose and a soft tender smile. It’s silly I know, especially after saying you no longer love me. Then came my crash and the emergency room doctor saying I’d never heal in time to race. But I just have to, I can’t let a broken bike and busted body keep me from France, from seeing you one more time. I’m a Quixotic spirit chasing windmills in walls with little regard for doctor’s orders. I replaced my Specialized bike and got back to training, but am only able to endure 25-mile rides before the pain’s too acute, leaving me 81 short of finished. My need to see you pushes me into the saddle because the pain of losing you is far greater than anything cobblestones can cause. Let me to come to you before the race, our pretext can be to run the course and assess if my damaged shoulder can take the pounding, but the real reason dear Dulcinea, is to let my beleaguered heart hear all those things I refuse to believe you’ll say.
Kyle relates to Don Quixote’s impossible dream while pleading with Nadia to let him to come to France to be with her even if he can’t bear to hear what she has to say.
