There was a preteen boy racing me on bicycle today. I passed him at first, steady as I go on my long morning rides, seeming no challenge would come from it. Out of nowhere he came whizzing past me, peddling as fast as his little legs could manage. As he did so, he couldn't help but have the biggest smile on his face. He was beating the "wei-guo-ren", the foreigner, and at his own game too. You see, I get all geared up for such rides, tight biking shorts, sleeveless cycling jersey and some dashing gloves and matching helmet...a real sight for the unexpecting local. To add to the thrill of the chase, he was riding probably his first bike, a beaten-up Giant, and with it, his heavy book bag, all the while I was riding a sleek road bike. He had some sort of spurt of energy, some spark in his brain that brought on such spontaneity. He was elated and exuberant in that moment. The sun met us perfectly up in the sky, softening the pores of skin producing sweat for our bodies. As I came creeping towards him, geared up, he kept his ground, quickening his peddle, all the while peeking back to see how close I was to him. The kickstand of his bike was down and shards from it were flying as he wobbled to gain momentum on his old bike. He about lost control once, but regained it haphazardly. I pushed forward and met up with him. Wheel to wheel, we battled to be the fastest. I would get ahead of him, then he would match my strength and pull ahead. All this excitement alongside laughing and smiling the whole way down the hill. I was a kid again, racing to the parking lot for a chance at bragging rights. We soon parted ways, neither of us sure which came out ahead, but we both came out winners with smiles on our faces.