Ftrain, by Paul Ford

Around Prospect Park, up and back, a cold downpour. I was one of maybe six bikes doing the loop. Soaked through in ten minutes. After the first time I was done, but then the voice started up. I could have veered off at Grand Army Plaza, but found myself going left instead for another go. It began to rain harder.

After the second I did a third.

"So," said the voice. "Turns out you want it."

I could have done a fourth time around--had to fight with myself not to. Why not hold something back? I'm already soaked. No reason to limp home.