"Bob, we'll be turning off the road at the bottom of this hill. Can you hear me?"
"Yes," I croak into the mouthpiece, trying to catch my breath. "I'm with you. Let's do it."
I pump my brakes, and the dark, brooding beauty of the Black Mountains comes back into focus as I slow down. My eyes dry out just in time for the turn at The Grange that leads onto a rock-strewn descent.
As I bounce down the hill, I lose sight of that fine line between control and an endo, so I dismount and walk my bike through the worst of it. Jason Lockyer, who's been bringing up the rear, also dismounts.
"Sorry," I tell Jason, Tony's younger brother. "I'm in terrible shape, and I'm also a bit of a coward."