3500 was the number I believe I heard. 3500 cyclists. That’s how many riders were to participate in today’s event.
Every year, riders chosen by qualification and lotto converge onto the small town of Lewiston, Utah. Each is there to ride their choice of multiple courses ranging from 27 miles to 100 miles.
There is no race, no trophy, or even a way to judge their performance against any other. They do it just for the fun of it. Some dress up in fun costumes, others are as professional as an Olympic athlete. Actually the only thing they share is that they are all women.
I also participated, but not as a rider. Obviously. But instead I volunteered as course marshal. I rode along with the many riders who chose to ride the 100 mile course. I followed along, I blocked traffic, checked on riders pulled off to the side, and played cheerleader- minus the pom-poms. There are worse things than spending all day on my motorcycle, being a watchdog over 3500 women, and enjoying the backroads of the Cache County farm country.
And although I volunteered for this duty to show support for my wife and daughter who were part of the 3500 riders and expected nothing in return- I accepted the $20 of gas money offered.
Gas money is gas money, you know.