You’re sitting at home or in the library, and you hear about a bike race. What bike race? Here? In Richmond? But why?

Your friends assure you it’s a good thing. The bike race is going to bring national attention to Richmond. They’re giving students the whole week off. There will be bike-race classes students can take for credit. You reluctantly accept this idea.

...Then you find out they’re closing down a lot of major roads...and you wonder how in the world you’re going to get to work this week...

And trying to use the online map to figure out which roads will be closed which days is like trying to translate ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.

In the days before the event, you just have to accept that you’ll most likely be stuck in your apartment for the week without any means of escaping the city.

And all you’ll be able to do is to cheer for your country and hope the bikers bring the U.S. some kind of bicycling glory...

After three days of only being able to travel within a one-block radius, you start to get a little claustrophobic.

Now, no matter how many times people tell you that the bike race is a good thing, you just can’t accept this fact.

On the fifth day, you start to actually enjoy the festivities a little bit. It’s kind of like having the Olympics in your town. Kind of. You don’t really want to give up the Bah-Humbug attitude you’ve stuck with for weeks though...

And finally the bike race is done. Classes are starting up again. The bikers are gone from the streets, and you’re free to roam wherever you want, with no streets blocked off. But you start to feel that bitter-sweet nostalgic twinge of sadness as you think about the fact that the bike race will never be coming back. It’s gone, never to return.