I push through the front door with three heavy grocery bags in my arms, the plastic handles cutting into my fingers. The weight of them feels good though—solid proof of what I accomplished last night. The prize money from the race is tucked safely in my pocket, more cash than I've seen in months.

I actually did it. Pride swells in my chest as I set the bags down on our small kitchen counter. I won that race against Gabriel and Paxton, against all those other riders with their fancy bikes and ...