A Day at the Races

Early Saturday afternoon, I stood in the very wet rain looking at a very empty street wondering what I was doing. No traffic, no cars, zilch. One of the streets you see in a sci-fi movie after the nuclear apocalypse. In reality I was waiting for the Men's U. S. Olympic Team Trials for Road Cycling.

To my right through the rain, I saw motorcycles and then suddenly two cyclists. They appeared so suddenly, and vanished so quickly that I almost did not realize what had happened. All I caught was a glimpse of two guys in skintight gear covered with logos whizzing by.

I strolled westward, moving slowly downhill and paused in front of a white fence. From here I could see the street as it dipped and continued uphill. There was a curious, low-sounding drone, and as I glanced up I thought I was seeing a rain squall pelting the pavement. But within an instance the squall became a huddled mass of cyclists all appearing to be within inches of each other. As they petaled up the hill toward me, three or four bikes skidded; wheels and frames caromed across the asphalt in one direction while the downed cyclists ricocheted in another.

By now the cyclists were directly in front of me. Dozens of men clad in similar logo-covered, body-fitting garb, with neon-colored helmets whirling by in a blur of pumping thighs and calves. And I actually could feel the accumulated body heat of the cyclist. As well as smell their collective bodies..

Behind the riders were numerous cars and motorcycles, several of whose passengers came to the aid of the victims of the slippery street. In a few minutes, the felled rejoined the race, and the vehicles raced on, and the street was deserted again.

As the rain increased I retreated to the car and drove home. Since I knew the race was a long one, I decided I go out again later. Shortly after 5, I drove toward the finish line and managed to park a couple of blocks away.

Here the street was thronged with fans behind steel barricades. To one side was an area of vendors' tents. Across the street were vans and television production units. Down the street I could see a large screen showing the cyclists from left and right and overhead. In the earlier confusion, I'd missed the camera operators on the motorcycles. And I'd completely overlooked the helicopters. After awhile I was able to piece together where the riders were. It was not too long before they appeared and swept between the barricades creating a vortex of whirling air.

I would like to have stayed, but the clouds were becoming darker and darker. In addition, I had noticed within the first few minutes the overpowering odor of freshly cut grass. My nose was already partially blocked, and I could feel the start of a sinus headache. Back to the car I plodded. And home I went.

I'm not sure what I has expected but certainly nothing as galvanic. It was both exhilarating and highly charged. I kept thinking of the incredible stamina exhibited and of all the work and effort needed to participate. Grit, determination and a little madness.

PAX!