Butler kept calling to the pacemaker to increase the speed while I was shouting to him to take it easy. Since Butler was riding directly behind the motor, he had the advantage over the rest of us as the pacing machine was breaking the wind for him. The rest of the field, including myself, were riding at a disadvantage as compared with Butler because we were absolutely unable to take advantage of the wind break caused by the fast moving pacing machine. So hot was the pace that not one of the riders was able to change his position throughout the first nine and one half laps. As we dashed into the last quarter mile of the race the pacing machine withdrew and the riders rushed out on their own in a wild scramble for the finishing tape.
Butler and I started our desperate fight for the tape the minute the motor dropped out of the race. We had a terrible fight for the honors as I challenged him for the lead when we entered the long home stretch. It must have been a wonderful finish to witness with the crowd on its feet shouting frantically as we struggled nip and tuck for the honors. Butler and I had in some unaccountable way miscalculated the laps that were left for us to travel before the finishing line was reached, and as we peddled for the finishing line it was my advantage, being first across the tape by a wheel’s diameter. The bell clanged, indicating another lap to go. The crowd screaming wildly.
Bewildered at the turn of events, Butler and I were astonished to see the rest of the field fly past us, some of them gaining more than a dozen lengths on us. Gasping for breath I struggled fiercely to regain my stride, Butler and I were in a very trying predicament. Butler either could not or would not make any attempt to go after the bunch, so I undertook the task with Butler hanging on my rear wheel.
As we were rounding into the home stretch I overtook the leaders. At this moment I glanced at the finishing line and it seemed miles and miles away. The sprint was not fast, but it was decidedly feverish. I bolted across the finishing line in lead, but to this day 1 cannot tell how I ever turned the trick. Every rider in the race was completely knocked out by the strenuous grind, Butler and I collapsing.
Even now I consider that five-mile race the climax of the most gruelling day’s work I ever put in on the bicycle track during my whole racing career covering almost seventeen years on both sides of the Atlantic.
As I mentioned before, this race, being the final event of the season, attracted the speediest of the bicycle racers of the country. It was no easy job winning a place in the heats for the three events which I won that day, as every one of them was fought tooth and nail. Never in my life was I so completely exhausted as when I streaked home in the five-mile lap race which was the last event on the
