Across the Finish Line in Clovis

Yesterday our home town of Clovis went International. The Tour of California bicycle race came to town and brought with it over 150 world-class bike racers from all over the world. Following two days of torrential rains and grueling miles on the previous stages, the fourth stage of the race which went from Madera to Clovis dawned sunny and almost warm. As the racers sped over the course which climbed up through snowy Oakhurst near Yosemite and then down through the flats north of Fresno, the 25,000 onlookers in Old Town Clovis kept one eye on the Jumbotron and the other watching for the racers to appear on Clovis Avenue. About 3 hours and some minutes into the race the shout was raised, "They're about 20 miles out!" Heads bobbed back and forth as the crowds leaned forward over the barricades, hoping to catch a glimpse of the first riders. "Watch for the helicopters. When you see them, the racers are not far behind." In a few minutes two helicopters hovered just north of downtown. The traditional cowbells that clang a welcome to bicycle riders began sounding up and down the street. Leaning over the upstairs balcony at Fifth and Pollasky Streets I strained to see to Clovis Avenue where the racers would first ride, then loop around to race to the finish past us on Pollasky. Literally, in a flash the peleton was there a block away, then past. We knew they would be sprinting past us in just a few minutes. Bells rang, flags and banners waved, people were cheering and clapping as the first rider rounded the corner followed closely by a huge pack of riders going flat out. They were a block away, and then in a moment, they were past...in a blur of spinning wheels and bright jerseys. "Did you see Lance? Did you see him?" I heard from several onlookers. "I think so. I'm not sure," was the answer. Me, too. He must have been in the group. But in that moment of sheer energy it was hard to tell them apart. Lance Armstrong was one of the riders as was Levi Leipheimer, the current leader of the race that day. Several riders rode in long after the main body had crossed the finish line, slowly, painfully making their way down the last few hundred yards. And for every last one of the riders, the crowd cheered and rang their cowbells, glad for them to have made it to the finish. There is something to be said for those who race with hopes to win, and those who race with hopes to finish. For most of us there are many times we will be glad we have just finished the race and I think we'll hope that there will be someone on the sidelines cheering and glad we made it across the finish line.