Right, I'm now on,
a wheel behind.
Hanging on to the pack,
with any speed I can find.

I think about the others,
but mostly my own pain.
Conscious of the risks
(fears I try to restrain). 

We're a team in a line,
bound together by pace,
Excited by the speed,
embarrassed by my face.

I know it's soon my turn,
I need to pull my weight.
Facing the wind head on,
is my inevitable fate. 

Seconds feel like hours,
as I check my speed.
Cursing but thanking,
the pull of the lead.

I trust the team,
to have my back.
Not to fuck up,
or take a solo attack. 

These thoughts occur,
then immediately go,
There isn't the freedom,
to let self-doubt grow. 

I've got to focus,
and avoid the pot holes. 
Wheelsucking is serious,
no time for LOLs.

I want the pain to end, 
for the screaming to stop.
But when I finish,
am I really on top?

I'm happy yes,
but not for long,
I thought the fear would end,
but I was wrong. 

The panic of being dropped,
is now replaced,
With the human issues,
and worries we face.

The presentation, the bills,
or the next shitty mail,
Just the every day fear,
of not wanting to fail. 

So, viva la wheelsucking.
Legs - continue to scream.
Thank you for silencing,
my daily thought stream.