behind and make our way towards the fabled cinder track.

Entering the stadium for the Little 500 never gets old. It’s a long line to get in and an even longer line to the bathroom. Most have done their drinking ahead of time, while others rely on clever methods of sneaking their booze in. Lining the straightaways of the track are the pits and crews of each participating team. Colorful banners and fraternal flags fly in the wind behind riders as they stay warm on stationary bikes. Team mechanics run back and forth between the infield making last minute adjustments. Coaches extol their final words of advice. Though the stadium usually houses the men’s soccer team, the atmosphere is more like that of the nearby Assembly Hall, the hallowed home of the Hoosier basketball team. It’s festive and raucous to attend, and intimidating for those in the spotlight. As we take our seats in the stands the weather begins to clear—it’s as if nature is arriving to watch too. A host of rituals follow. The teams are introduced in the order they qualified as they walk around the track. A parachuter towing a giant American flag descends from the sky—remember, we are in the Midwest—as a country music star sings the national anthem. My favorite part comes though when the whole crowd sings “Back Home Again In Indiana.” It’s just one of those moments you never forget. But sentimentality quickly fades as the call comes to, “Mount your Schwinn bicycles.”

The riders line up next in rows of three. Each rider is identified by a number, while each team has a specific color chosen for that year. One month before the race a meeting is held where each team chooses, in order of qualification, their jersey color. Solid colors are the most visible and always go first—white, green, yellow, black—while teams at the back are stuck with oddities like pink, rasta, or my favorite which appears to be three different shades of green. You can tell the more serious riders by their aero helmets, racing sunglasses, with a few guys even wearing shorts from their team’s custom kits. I scan the field and find the usual suspects up front—Beta, Cutters, Fiji, Phi Delts, and the resurgent Black Key Bulls. Training has been king for the 365 days leading up to the race, but now it’s about teamwork, timing, and a little bit of luck.

As the pace car exits the track the riders begin to pick up speed. At the start-finish line the green flag is poised, ready to drop. As the riders circle the final turn the entire stadium is cheering like wild and on