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The next morning, Matt was up at the scheduled time, sitting in front of his television, distractedly munching on toast. He watched Darcy win the second preliminary heat of the 100-meter race. It went much like the first, with one of the same two announcers from before making an observation.
"In just three hours, Ms. Darcy is scheduled to compete in the bicycle road race, Art. You have to wonder if she'll actually show up, and if she does, whether she'll be able to keep up. She’s got to be tired from those 100 meter races. So far no one's talking about strategy. Remember, this is not a team race. It’s everyone for herself."
Three hours later, Darcy did show up.
Matt stared in total absorption, forgetful of his congealing breakfast on the table in front of him, as Darcy wheeled out into the Irish countryside along with innumerable fellow racers.
In fifteen minutes, the peloton, or pack of riders, had spread out into a long procession with Darcy among the half dozen leaders. Matt had never seen her on a bicycle before—didn't even know she could ride. Darcy was easy to follow astride what looked to be a small frame bicycle, wearing a bright blue and yellow racing suit with a yellow helmet, like several other Barbadian bicyclists.
The riders progressed up and down hills, down long stretches of straight road and around mountainous curves with drop-offs that looked lethal to anyone who couldn't stay on the road. Some surged up to challenge the leaders or fell back in turn, but Matt could not follow the fine points. Darcy remained up front with the other four or five leaders.
It took hours. Matt’s inevitable bathroom break was a back-and-forth rush. He couldn’t stand to miss a moment.
The aerial shots from a helicopter were beautiful—the Irish countryside was spectacularly gorgeous. Several times, a television camera mounted on a car driving perilously close to the riders showed Darcy close up. He recognized the familiar shape of her face, her feet pedaling swiftly and steadily, seemingly as untiring as any of the other riders. How could anyone do that that long, he wondered.
The announcers for this event were a regular TV sports person and a former woman bicycle racer. They speculated what would happen when the peloton reached the last major challenge of the race, one of the more formidable hills on the course. Their astonishing consensus was that the hill would determine who would win the race.
Duh! thought Matt.
He couldn't judge the steepness of the climb from the television picture. The pace had evidently slowed, because several of the spectators were able to run alongside some riders briefly and cheer them on.
No one was running next to Darcy, but she was moving up on the rider in front of her.
She passed that woman and gained on the next. The announcers found this significant.
Darcy passed another, and they found that exciting.
As she passed a third, the motorized camera zoomed in on her, and both announcers thought this stupendous.
The female commentator pointed out that only three hours earlier Darcy had qualified for the 100-meter finals. No one expected her to be up to competing in the bicycle race as a result. Ana Darcy, she said, "obviously, had a different idea."
With the same serious expression on her face, she was pedaling just as steadily as she had all along. The camera showed the only rider left ahead of Darcy looking back over her shoulder. Clearly worried, the rider lowered her head and pumped so hard her bicycle swayed from side to side.
Slowly, steadily, Darcy gained on her.
Then she pulled even with her.
Shortly after, Darcy passed her.
For the first time in three hours of riding she was in the lead. The announcers were shouting as though the finish were just ahead, instead of another three miles away.
Darcy didn't look back or to either side. Utterly focused, she just kept pedaling and lengthening her lead.
When Darcy crossed the finish line, the woman she had passed had fallen back to fifth place, apparently exhausted. The woman in second place was a half mile behind Darcy.
The announcers were beside themselves.
Matt stood up so fast he knocked his soda over. He hollered, "All riiight!" while the crowd at the finish line stood stunned in silence.
None of the favored five racers, whose supporters were crowded around the finish line, had finished close to Darcy
The medal ceremony followed within the hour. The small group of Barbadians and fans were almost delirious with joy.
Matt was certain Darcy was terrified by all the frenzy of hugs and kisses. The crowd calmed down briefly for the playing of the Barbadian national anthem, but as soon as the last notes died away, the celebration resumed.
Matt could tell, even at his distance, that Darcy wished she were somewhere else.
