So I think things are about as ready as they will get for this weekend's Tour de Louisiane stage race. Of course, I'm never really sure about that. There's always that nagging feeling that I've totally forgotten about something that absolutely needed to be done. The race numbers are sorted, the old race scribblings have been removed from twenty or so clipboards and fresh paper has been inserted, pre-registered riders' release forms have been downloaded and printed, blank entry forms and one-day forms and volunteer release forms have been printed, tables have been bought, batteries have been changed, orange traffic cones and water coolers stand at the ready. Tomorrow morning, I'll pull on my official's shirt and for the rest of the weekend I'll morph from rider to blueshirt, standing on the side of the road worrying about traffic and center lines and cameras and recorders and pack sprints. I find it far more stressful than actually racing. On the bike, things seem more or less under my control. On the sidelines things seem more or less out of control. There are always things that fall through the cracks. In a way, it was simpler back in the 70's when nobody expected follow cars or corner monitors or motorefs or neutral feeds or even accurate placings past about fifth. There were some years when I'm sure we didn't even tell the police we were having a race and we ran the whole race on about three hundred dollars and donated bike parts from Betat's for prizes. This year our costs just for police and course availability probably top five grand.
I'll be heading off to the northshore in a couple of hours with the car, or Mark's truck, or both, packed full of race equipment and by 6:30 pm we'll be handing out race numbers.
Here we go again . . . . .
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