Beautiful race

The first European pro race I saw was a stage of the 1997 Giro d’Italia. That spring I spent two weeks in Italy at the Velo Veneto racing camp. We rode to see the stage over the Passo Pordoi in the Dolomites.

I will always remember what Ron Palazzo, the guy who ran the camp, said to me as we waited for the race: “First you hear the helicopters, then the race caravan starts to come through, then you see the long line of riders wind up the mountain. It always brings tears to my eyes. It is a beautiful sport.”

When the race finally came through, I knew what he meant. We waited in the cold and rain for hours, but it was worth it when we stood in the road and cheered for the riders struggling up the mountain.

I felt the same way in 2002 when a work trip amazingly lined up with the World Championships in Zolder, Belgium. I remember riding the train early Sunday morning to the Elite Men’s race. The train was packed with people speaking French, Flemish, Spanish, Italian, English, German, and who knows what else.

That day I got to eat frites and mayonnaise, drink Belgian beer, and see the Italian team deliver Mario Cipollini to the final 200 meters (after which there was no question who would win). I felt as though I had stepped into one of the European cycling videos I watch in the winter while on the trainer.

I wondered if I would still feel that way in Salzburg. Simply being in Europe, for a race, wasn’t a novelty anymore. It wasn’t until the day before leaving that I was even sure I would go.

But then, while driving to my hotel, I passed a couple of Spanish team riders, then a couple from the Netherlands. My heart started to beat just a little faster.

Saturday morning, just before the start of the Men’s U23 race, I was finishing breakfast when I heard the helicopters overheard. In that instant, I was ready. I grabbed my backpack and rode down to the start, just in time to see the U23 men finish their first lap.

First came all the police motorcycles (and clearly they were enjoying it), then the lead cars, then the riders, then all the support cars. It’s an amazing spectacle. Having organized a couple of local races, I cannot even imagine what goes into an event such as this.

U23's on the first lap.


Because the races are contested by national teams, rather than by the normal pro trade teams, there is a large amount of flag waving and enthusiastic but good-natured cheering and national rivalries.

The Danish and Italians can still drink together.





The road race is held on a circuit, this year 22km in length, so the spectators see the racers many times. We saw the U23’s do 9 laps, the women 6, and the Elite Men 12. That’s a lot of racing over 2 days (and those who came earlier in the week saw the time trials also).

Combine the number of races, the course, the people from all over the world, and you have an event that is a cyclist’s dream.

Late Sunday afternoon, when the men’s race had ended and the Italians were again celebrating, I got on my bike to ride back to the hotel. With the races over and everyone leaving, it suddenly seemed very lonely. I stopped and took a picture of Paolo Bettini’s face frozen on the video wall, then followed an Austrian couple down the hill, on a back way into Salzburg.

Next year the race is in Stuttgart. I’m already thinking about it.