My eyes look past it. But I see it clearly.

I take the less travelled line in. Fingers itching to dab the brakes. The last chance to scrub some speed before I’m committed. This time I hold my nerve.

My body coils ready. The bike leans. I feel the gyroscopic tug of the big wheels. Stabilising across the stutter.

Now in the moment. I’ve started shift weight to the outside peddle. I sense the knobbly edges bite.

Both the acceleration and the centripetal forces work to create my own artificial gravity. Wrapping me and the bike. The world shifts. What was a berm becomes a bomb hole.

The legs push deep into the thin line. Confident everything is balanced. My whole body squeezes the bike against the ground. Like a soap bar squeezed to hard, I get pushed out of the apex.

I’m aware of the noise of the wheels. The click of the rear hub. The feel of the air being pushed aside. Rocks and debris setting back down behind me.

But this corner isn’t a singularity. There are many. Those behind like a hand on my back continue to push me forward. Those ahead exert their own pull. Willing me on. Each merging into the next.