and simultaneously inspired me to my supreme efforts which were shortly culminated by a remarkable victory. Up to the moment that I heard Michaels direct his pacemakers to slacken their speed I felt certain he would defeat me. I was absolutely burned out.
Just how I ever managed to kick up to the rear wheel of my pacing machine will always remain a mystery to me, but in a flash I got it and was yelling like mad, "Go, Go," and go they did, with every ounce of energy they had left in them. They were delighted to hear me call for a faster pace and on they dashed as we rounded into the home stretch. It was a glorious sensation to see victory now within my grasp, when only a few seconds before inevitable defeat stared me in the face. As we made for the finishing line I was even bold enough to jump from the rear of my pacing machine and beat it across the tape, breaking the record established by Michaels in the preceding heat, and leading him over the line by 200 feet.
Both my pacing-team and that of Michaels were pedalling desperately in that heat for supremacy of speed and low score. For that reason Michaels' pacers disregarded his distressful cry of "Steady, Steady"—their one thought being to lead my boys over the finishing line. This they did but only because my pacers had to fight hard all the way around on the outside of the track. However, it gave my pacing quintet no little satisfaction to know that they had finished the race with me hanging onto them while the rival quintet had left their star away back on the track.
I never heard such applause as that which greeted me when I dismounted and started for my dressing room. I was pretty well "baked," and nearly dropped twice, but the cheers of the crowd did much to revive and stimulate me and by the time I reached my cot I was in pretty good condition. At this point I resorted to some strategy which I always regarded as one of my best cards. It was in effect to have the third and final heat of the race run off as quickly as possible. I always felt that since I was in such perfect physical condition throughout the racing year that I could recuperate more quickly after a gruelling race than any of my competitors. Therefore, my anxiety was to get Michaels out for the final heat at the earliest possible moment. Mr. Brady, my manager, saw to it that we were called out again in short order. Excitement was at a high pitch as Michaels and I took up our positions to start the final heat. Interest in this final sprint for the $1,000 prize, was at fever heat since each of us had won a heat with a record attached to each whirl around the track. I have seen enthusiastic gatherings at bicycle race tracks all over the country but I never saw one more on edge than the assembly that witnessed the final heat in this great race with
