'So, where are they?'

By Dave Kannas

This little girl was but one of the approximately 1.5 million fans who lined the roads along which the Tour of California professional road race sped for its third year this February. I've attended all three with no indication that my enthusiasm is diminishing. Even the on-going doping allegations within the various teams - yes, bicycle road racing is a team sport - don't dampen my view of the sport as the greatest of all pro sports.

Every year I take my road bike to this stage race and ride a piece of the course with my nephew. We manage to find a tough climb then stake out a spot near the top because that's where the riders "slow" the most. This year we climbed up Trinity Grade, which is on the second stage of the race between Santa Rosa and Sacramento. The stage is over 116 miles through Sonoma and Napa Valleys then on to Sacramento Valley. The climb took us up a 16% grade for five miles - a mini Alpe D'Huez - complete with serious switchbacks where the grade steepened a bit more. It was raining and cold, but we made it. The climb gave us new appreciation for what the riders in the race were experiencing. We could stop; they couldn't unless they wanted to drop out of the race.

When we reached the right spot and parked our bikes in a ditch, I imagined myself on a mountainside in the Alps during the Tour de France. The fans were there in droves, the road was narrow and winding, the switchbacks were brutal.

Then the first rider pedaled toward us out of a foggy mist. He had slowed to about 15 mph and was putting on his rain jacket while keeping this pace. As he approached the crest of the climb, he had his jacket on and was prepared to descend the other side at about 50 mph toward Napa Valley.

Not far behind was the peloton (loosely translated as the main field of riders). Among this group was the race leader who didn't have anything to fear from the lead rider who was out front for any number of reasons: he wanted his name highlighted for the day; he wanted to get his team's name and that of his sponsor in view of the millions who watched on the road and on television; he had visions of winning the stage; he wanted to gain points in the King of the Mountain contest; he was just feeling frisky; etc. But we all knew that he would be caught at this early stage of the day's race to Sacramento.

It's times like these that clarify my reasons for the love of the sport of pro bicycle road racing. You can reach out and touch the riders as they pass (It's not recommended, however). You can hear them sucking in every bit of oxygen they can. You can see the pain on some of their faces. But most have learned to mask the pain. And you can, if you're like me, get a chill of excitement that comes from the knowledge that these riders are giving everything they have over a weeklong race for their commitment to the sport.

There is no price of admission to stand alongside a road and watch these athletes blur past. My self-imposed price of admission is riding part of the course in order to get a sense of their efforts. It's also good to feel the same road beneath me that great names in the peloton will soon pass over. The multi-colored blur of riders, the sizzle of tires and whir of chains passing and it's over. We then rode down the same grade we had earlier climbed at great expense.

This year we were privileged to see the women's criterium in Santa Rosa. This was a race around a circuit of streets for one hour. The little girl in the above photo was witness to this event as well as the finish of the first men's road stage. Who knows, she may compete some time during her life. I hope so.

Did you notice that I didn't say much about doping in pro cycling? I hope you don't think that I condone it, I don't. I'm all for riders found to be doping being banned from the sport for life, not just for two years as is now the case. I have great respect for the history of the sport and not so much for those who show none by taking unfair advantage. But bicycling, unlike other professional sports, is doing something about it both at the team and the international oversight levels. The sport is cleaning up its act. It knows that if it doesn't there won't be guys like me at the top of climbs or little girls with their heads protruding through fences at the finish of a stage to watch as riders go past in a blur of color.

Safe riding and long live the Tour and professional bicycle racing.

Dave Kannas may be reached via wseditor@robinsonnews.com