The day began as any other would: four hits of the snooze button, an unacknowledged head-nod to one of the seven random dudes sleeping on couches and air mattresses throughout our house (my roommate had some friends visiting), two bowls of Jewel Low-Fat Granola w/ Raisins, and a quick turning-off of all the lights that invariably get left on overnight.

But what began under normal circumstances would quickly turn awesome, celestial, and lucrative, all at the same time. I was walking across the Great Lawn at Millennium Park, going from my place of bike-parking to my place of employment, and I felt a soft wind at the back of my neck. Twisting around, I heard a slow whisper: “Young one, you will race tonight on the velodrome, and you will succeed.” Confused, I looked around, and saw no one, save a few photographers getting their obligatory shots of the Pritzker Pavilion. Then again, that same, almost whimpering tone: “No, seriously Liam, you will take the money, and you will race. Please, take the money. Just take it.” Burt Lancaster channeling Moonlight Graham, is that you? “Do the dew,” he/she/it whispered cordially. I looked down, and saw a rolled-up $20 bill lying in the grass, wet from the morning’s dew. “Free entry fee,” the angel of god said. And so it began.

First on the agenda at the track is a ten-lap points race. I end up winning it on a flier, debate retiring from the velodrome with a 1.000 batting average, and quickly decide the goal of the night remains the same: keep the rubber down, and the morale up, save some for Winfield x2 and Spring Prairie. Second race is a miss-and-out. I think they also call this Devil Takes the Hindmost. I keep making the selections until... the Devil takes my Hind-End... most. I crash into the wreck a Team Beer’d guy made with Jared. Oops. There goes that goal. I dust myself off, get angry (I think it might have been Peter and Mikey Young who’ve recently discussed the idea of “riding angry” with me), and decide it’s time to destroy. POW! BAM! Total obliteration at any and all costs. Except crashing again. No more crashing. I get 2nd in the miss-and-out by maybe six inches. Last race of the night is a 25-lap points race, and Niko and I are in charge. We go off on a two-man break, switch pulls every half-lap, I take three firsts and a second on the sprints, and it’s good enough for 1st in the race and in the onmium for the evening. Niko takes second. Not too shabby for the ol’ first night on the track. So, I make $50 more, plus some other goodies. Someone up above must think I’m in need of some money.

Jared and I eat some celebratory frosties at Wendy’s on the way home, and I give the guy $20 to pay for our $12.58 meal. After getting sidetracked with a few things, he turns back to me: “Here you go, sorry about that, eleven-oh-one” and hands me a ten, a one, and a penny. Hmmm. Hmmmmmmm. Seriously, Liam, take the money. Just take it.