The Tour de Force originated with 7 riders in memoriam of the police officers lost on September 11, 2001.  Now limited to 170 riders, it supports families of fallen officers while in the line of duty.  Police officers, FBI and Special Agents from across the country as far as Las Vegas, South Dakota, Miami, Wisconsin, and the tri-state area come in union to exchange on-the-job stories, trade agency patches and show support.  Oh, and from Ireland too.  A few of us come from the corporate sector.  We are honored to be among this group and overwhelmed by their acceptance and opportunity to ride with.  Most are men, less than 20 women riders.  But the women are just as amazing with their stories and big hearts; a sisterhood that need not be announced but silently understood.  
               
Upon hearing of this ride, I wrote a letter to the organizer, Mike De Paolis, and told him my story of loss and survival, having worked on the 92^nd Floor of Two WTC.   We lost 186 co-workers, countless business associates from the Insurance Industry and, personally, I lost someone who was a big part of my life for many years.   Mike allowed me to ride and I am eternally grateful.   Riding with these police officers was a reminder of those first responders who were digging for our friends and loved ones both at Ground Zero and Staten Island.

I will confess that as the ride was coming to an end, my mood became somber.  We took the ferry from New London to Orient Point.  The Nassau Police escorted us to the city line where NYC Police Motorcade took over.  President Obama was visiting the city and so with a few too many calls by a past rider to the Department’s higher ups, we were privileged to piggyback off the President’s security.  We were escorted all the way to Ground Zero.  They closed the 59^th Street Bridge and all of First Avenue for The Tour de Force. 
Riding in the back, I thought how gloriously amazing this felt.  I remembered my first NYC Marathon and thinking how glorious NY is with its arms wide open.  I had that feeling all again; although this time the pedestrian didn’t really know what was going on with all these bike riders in matching jerseys going by.  But the buildings were standing tall, people were moving around in wonderment, the smells were familiar, potholes were frequent and jerked us to attention, annoyed waiting vehicles were beeping their horns joining in concert with the sounds only NYC can sing.  It was a site to behold.

However, as we got closer to Ground Zero, the noises lessen; the surroundings became gray and the faces long.  We stopped outside the big-boarded area splashed with advertisements.  Behind the boarded area is the physical vacancy of the towers reflecting the voids in our hearts.  I looked over to my right and caught sight of Brooks Brothers as wondering memories began to follow of days “before” 9/11.  The moment of silence and stillness past through us as we, again, mounted our bikes.  We rode to the Police Memorial where a crowd of family and friends waited along with Police Department Officials, Honored Guards, Clergy and Bang Pipers. 

After the ceremony, some of the officers walked down to the memorial and traced over the names of fallen officers.  We embraced and found our smiles.  We remember, we honor, we support….


Some of us departed for home from downtown, while others boarded the buses back to the Bronx.  With a few beers in hand, we laughed recalling the past four days.  We, again, cursed the hills and shared stories that have yet to be heard.  I was told about a rider who lost his brother on that day, but wanted to keep it low key.   I thought to myself, another rider riding with the quiet of his soul in search for peace.  Another first responder had suffered broken bones and lost some of his memory for nearly a year.  He watched TV re-runs, but they were new to him.  And, there was the rider who lost his cousin, the rider who lost his partner…  I started to feel a little guilty about the giggles and laughs.  But, we needed them, we did.  We all giggled, laughed, tear up and cried in unison.  Life. 
It’s been eight years.  We know people forget.  We know we have short-term memories.  But, we remember.  Never forget….
Thank you whole heartily for your donations ($222,000+ raised and still coming in), for supporting this ride, this group and the underlying goodness and wellness that comes from it. 

Thank you.

LUCY PRIETO