Better to Quit

Rays of sun beat down on my back, so sweaty my shirt stuck to it. I wiped my soaked hair off my forehead, letting out an exhausted sigh. The heat hadn’t yet killed my determination. A few more yards of trail, then I'd rest. The rake bit the dirt, clawing out rocks and bark, leaving sifted loam behind. I tamped it with my sole, but it felt spongy, like the dirt wasn’t solid. I heard buzzing underfoot. A few yellow-striped soldiers crawled out, targets locked. I ran from the nest, air full of commotion, the rake abandoned on the ground.

Andrew Salcman, a ninth grader in the Bay Area, loves mountain bikes and everything related: trail building, repair, and riding the beautiful trails of California.