Even better than on TV

I’ve been into cycling for quite a while now, and an interesting side-effect has been my interest in pro cycling races. In prior years, the extent of that interest would be catching the highlights of a stage or two of the Tour de France on ESPN just to see if Lance was winning or not. Less than a half an hour per year, I would guess.

But now things have changed. This year I started watching cycling on TV. It started with the Tour of California back in April. Then came the Giro d’ Italia in May. Of course I watched the Tour de France in July. And now, I just finished watching the Vuelta de Espana. I even mixed in some of the classics in between. Not just the highlights, either; I watched entire stages. I’ve invested many hours. The more I watch, the more interesting it becomes.

Maybe it’s a little like watching golf: if you golf, you can better appreciate what Tiger and company do out on the course because you know just how difficult golf is. Cycling is probably extremely boring to most people who haven’t ridden a bike since junior high. However, if you have done any cycling, seeing what the pros do in these races is impressive.

After watching cycling on TV and seeing the crazy European cycling fans along the side of the road, I thought it would be fun to watch a race in person. The Tour of Utah had several stages on roads not far from my home that I have ridden before, so I was excited to see how the pros rode those familiar roads.

Stage 2 was a mountaintop finish atop Mount Nebo, the highest peak in Utah county. My riding buddy Dennis and I took a long lunch and drove from work to the finish line. It was fun to see the pre-race caravan come along, building the excitement. Many other spectators wrote inspirational messages in chalk on the roads, dodging vehicles in the caravan. Then once the riders came along, it was cool to see them suffer up the last climb of the stage. I snapped a few photos — this one shows the leader (and eventual overall winner) Francisco Mancebo in the yellow jersey — and did my best to cheer the riders up the road.

The route for stage 4 encompassed many of the roads I ride, although the pros combined them all together and added another 50 miles to make for a brutal stage. And, since it was less than a few miles from home, Jacob and I had to go watch it. We left early and found a great spot at the top of Suncrest.

Jacob was in heaven. First, the promotional vehicles came through. The race sponsors pass out freebies, and Jacob scored us some Vitamin Waters and Powerades. Then the LiveStrong car pulled up and tossed out several famous yellow LiveStrong bracelets. Then a team car (I don’t even know which one) drove by, opened the window, and yelled, “Money!” and tossed a dollar bill at Jacob’s feet. It was better than a parade.

Then the riders came though. We knew the riders’ names who were in the lead group from chatting with the other fans along side the road. We cheered them on by name as they went through. Then the main group (the cycling term is the peleton) came through and we cheered some more. Jacob recognized the yellow jersey of the leader (still Mancebo), and watched him and the other riders fly up the hill.

Some of the lagging riders were not flying at all, and we got to see some of them really suffer. One guy went by us begging for water. Several had obviously been in an earlier crash and were gritting it out until the finish. I thought it was good for Jacob to see just how hard these guys worked to be good at something, and they weren’t even the ones at the front getting all the glory. Cyclists are tough, even if they have puny arms and no visible upper body strength.

Although the Tour of Utah crowd is obviously different from the crazy Euro fans, being at the race was even better than advertised. Once we came down the mountain, we kept checking the radio and internet updates to see how the race finished. It was fun to see the race develop and feel like we were part of it, and that was much better than just watching it on TV. We can’t wait until next year.