I went to ‘t Kuipke (The Tub) yesterday morning.  So did 15,000 other cycling fans.  It’s an iconic velodrome in Gent that opened in 1965.  On Saturday it hosted the team presentations for the bike race Omloop Het Nieuwsblad.  I watched men and women riding in, standing there beaming onstage, and riding out again.

I was in love.

In love with the thrills of cycling, with incredibly fit young people, with the stories behind the athletes.

In love with the colours, the music and the smiles.

As each team rode in, young kids who had climbed up the barriers leaned over for a high-five, and most riders obliged.  Such fun!

I have my favourite cyclists … most of them women.  (Imagine that)  I looked into their faces from my spot in front of the stage.  Behind the eyes were the joys and sorrows that all of us share.  Plus the immense ups and downs of being an elite athlete – the highest of wins, the deepest of losses, the public adoration, the injuries that silence the bicycle.

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And then it was time to race.  The women 138 kilometres, the men 197.  Why the difference?  I don’t know.

They gave ‘er!

And I applauded