People recognize each other, stop to talk in small knots of walkers and cyclists leaning on their mounts. Conversations range from questions about absent competitors to rehashes of past races to complaints of fatigue. I pull up next to an SUV where a tiny child clad only in shorts is working on the headset of a white Kestrel with an Allen wrench. He nods with great solemnity, still busy at his job. It's my mom's bike.
Riders sit warming up on trainers or clip in and head off down the road beyond the course.
The day wears on but the scene doesn't change. The trainers and roads are full of riders cooling down. Shade is taken advantage of for rest and conversation before the next race. His parents have been trading between racing and childcare chores. Shadows lengthen, the last race ends, results are tallied and the venue goes back to its pre-race population and peace.