Racers clad in spandex scarf down bananas and fight off pre-race jitters, filling the bench seats inside Tang’s and Garage Pizza next door, filling the strip mall parking lot, spilling out onto the sidewalk and the street; many more were still shaking off their warm covers to trade them for jerseys and cleats and gloves.
All across Los Angeles the streets were just beginning to calm, with the last of the St. Patty’s day bar crowd reaching their homes and joining the rest of the city in slumber—but at this junction pulsed a hot, bright energy, a growing organism of speed-thirsty cyclists, anxious and eager to ride across Los Angeles with unchecked fury. Heartbeats and blinkie lights set the tempo for the chatter of conversation filling the air, an emotional soup of excitement and anticipation and trepidation for the road and weather conditions, and concern for the skill and safety and awareness level that the hundreds of racers around them might take.