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It’s as if we’ve planned it. We step off the train and the crowds go wild. Turns out they weren’t that excited about our arrival in Alghero, but instead had gone looking for a reason to drape themselves in pink garb and found it.Through some strange coincidence mixed in with a smattering of happenstance and just a pinch of luck, we had ended up in where the one hundredth anniversary of the Italian bike race – Giro d’Italia – that not only took place on Sardinia and in Alghero, but officially was kicked off from here. Two days after we got here, no less.

Pink was the color of this centennial and it was everywhere. Pink as far as the eye could see; From the obvious banners and posters, to the eye-catching painted walls and ornaments to the smile-inducing shock-pink runners of some of the local senior gents. Still waters…

Come Friday, we hung around the official start area long enough for them to announce the lone Canadian in the race, Michael Wood, I think his name is, a member of team USA. Go Canada! My speedo-clad friend from a day earlier had informed me that the whole race posse would be passing metres away from where we swimming, which by definition would be very close to where we also were staying. To escape the worst crush of the crowds at the start line, we went back and waited by the seawall. After a brief while and countless police motorcycles and more Honda Civics that have ever congregated in a single place before (I wonder who the sponsor was…), the riders finally showed up.

Having ridden for a full five minutes with about 200km to go, we didn’t witness any spectacular displays of velo-heroics. It was one large clump of lycra-wrapped athletes riding so close to each other they reminded me of the male emperor penguins staying warm in the unforgiving gales of the Antarctic while the females are out gathering food. But I digress. It was almost as awe-inspiring to have hundreds of bikers pass within a foot or so of us as it was to witness the extent of the support posse with the number of bikes on the roofs of the countless support vehicles (a few more Civics, for good measure). It took a full three minutes from the start of the first biker to the last of vehicle before the magnitude of the logistics of executing this race across two islands (Sardinia and Sicily) and mainland Italy, really hit me. People have an innate need to compete in general and race in particular. Riding a bike around Sardinia seems like an OK way to scratch that itch.

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