PEZ-Man Mike Fee is on the ground in Kigali, and today witnessed how bike a simple race became cause for celebration of the nations of the world, rider and fans alike.
Notwithstanding the increase in support for women’s bike racing and women’s sport in general, I worried that the women’s road race might not receive sufficient support — but the atmosphere roadside in Kigali today was electric. Maybe in 24 hours, after watching the men, I’ll retract my assessment in comparison, but for now…the fans came out for the femmes.
A future winner of the Elite Women’s RR?
I followed the race first from the main event complex, the nerve center for the week’s racing. Fans stood at the barriers lining the course — one deep, some gaps between them. We cheered enthusiastically for riders who’d just taken feeds. An Austrian woman was off the front for a few laps, more than 3 minutes ahead of the group. My son’s girlfriend, the least cycling-informed of our group, asked whether she would stay away. I ensured her that she wouldn’t.
With 80 km left, we walked backwards on the course to the base of the final climb, 1500 meters before the finish. The crowds deepened along the barriers, which lined a solid five kilometers through the start/finish and the feed zone. Guards stood every 100 meters or so; volunteers patrolled decorative landscaping to make sure no one stomped on any plants. But the Rwandan control didn’t dampen fans’ spirits: at a bar soon after the course’s cobbled stretch, Rwandans danced and Belgians drank and cheered. The triumphant Italian U23 men chatted over lunch, while their Austrian counterparts ordered drinks at the bar.
The Italian U23s ate, while the Austrians drank.
Fans went to great lengths to catch a glimpse. (Actually, that’s me with my daughter.)
From the controlled cosmopolitan madness in and around the bar, we walked further back on the course, to the cobbled climb. A similar crowd had gathered on all sides of the corner at the apex, everyone craning to watch the riders up the entire ascent, but a large screen allowed us to follow the action, with Carlton Kirby and Sean Kelly piped in over speakers — though periodically an evidently local announcer would drown them out with chants: SUISSE! SUISSE! EE-TA-LY! EE-TA-LY! MO-TI-VA-TION! CHAM-PEE-OWN! We agreed that we preferred the British commentators.
I was able to follow that a group of three had formed off the front; I recognized Niamh Fisher-Black, but not the other two. I assumed that the big names — Ferrand-Prévot, Niewiadoma, Vollering — would reel them in, but the chase was never consistent, and the gap stuck.
As the leaders neared I wanted to be sure to find a favorable spot, so left the view of the screen; I missed the Canadian rider’s move, but the crowd roared, so I knew something had happened. Soon Magdeleine Vallieres — I’d learn her name later — came into view; it was several seconds before I could see another rider. She had what looked to be a winning gap.
The winning move.
Fans waved all matter of flags — though none bearing a maple leaf — and chanted, and cheered as Vallieres rounded the corner and our announcer yelled CA-NA-DA! CA-NA-DA! We rushed back into view of the screen to make certain that her margin indeed held; sure enough, she had time to sit up and take in her victory. And while the day was won by Canada, a country that seemed barely represented among us fans, virtually everyone seemed up for a celebration that continued long after Vallieres received her medal.
Watching the Elite Women’s Road Race with fans from Rwanda, other African countries (all of them seemingly proud and elated, though none of their riders finished the race), plus European nations, Japan, and Brazil, as well as an evidently American family (mom clad in a Budweiser cowboy hat), was a blast. But my day’s high point arrived earlier.
I sat in Tugende, writing and eating breakfast during the Junior Women’s race. A single African rider, Tsige Kahsay Kiros, hung with the leading group until dropping off on the final ascent — but then rallied, closing a massive gap in the final 300 meters, and very nearly catching the leaders. As she narrowed the margin and it appeared that she might even come around them, the others in Tugende began to stand, and a cheer began to rise. “Come on!” people began to shout. “Do it! Close it!” While she fell short of the leaders and finished seventh, we all seemed to understand that we’d just watched something special, hopefully a sign of things to come.
It all happened quick and unexpectedly, and I thus didn’t think to snap a photo of the. scene in the restaurant. You’ll just have to take my word for it: It was indeed special.
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