Saturday at SouthSide Works was a far cry from Easter Sunday at PNC Park.

Saturday's leg of the Tour of Pennsylvania had sunshine and cheering crowds and dignitaries, including one introduced as "Mayor Ravenstock."

The last Sunday in March, however, was windy and raw, and there was almost no one except a handful of relatives to watch as young cyclists from collegiate teams all over the country raced across city bridges in a North Shore-Downtown loop.

The prize this past weekend was $150,000 -- the biggest purse in the world for the under-25 age group.

The prize back in March was a box of Easter candy. The announcer joked, using a little sound system stowed in his hatchback, "This lap's for the Peeps!"

Around and around they went that blustery afternoon, young athletes hoping someday to compete like those that thousands applauded this past weekend. Few people saw the Easter event, but it was the kind of low-profile grunt work that feeds big events like the Tour of Pennsylvania.

Likewise, most of us can't imagine the amount of grunt work needed to bring off the yearlong celebration of the city's semiquincentennial -- like confirming that a 250th anniversary is indeed a "semiquincentennial."

This work should not go unnoticed and unthanked. Since today marks the halfway point of the semiquincentennial -- I'm going to keep typing it till I can remember how to spell it -- it's time to say: "Way to go, everybody!" (Well, almost everybody.)

From the Penguins' "Pittsburgh 250" patches, to the launching of the Pittsburgh Promise, to the crunch to complete the Great Allegheny Passage, Pittsburghers of all kinds -- native, adopted and honorary -- are jumping into the effort to improve and promote the region.

Even the Pirates are playing like they care.

It helps to have the affable and savvy Bill Flanagan directing this multifaceted effort. He recently articulated the elegant fit between the Tour of Pennsylvania and the city's pivotal place at the end of Gen. John Forbes' cross-state warpath and at the opening of the continent. The tour's route, he noted, connects our past to our present and future.

Speaking of our future, some argue that given our persistent problems -- city debt, rising taxes, eroding population and the lack of a viable two-party system -- the yearlong celebration is tantamount to an extended period of denial: "Everything's great in Pittsburgh! Let's party like we're 250!"

But there's a lot to be said for repositioning our city's image to the rest of the world and reminding ourselves how much we have worth fighting for. Maybe the celebration will hearten us for the fight.

Stuff could still go wrong. Lamar Advertising could finish its assault on Downtown with that nasty electronic billboard (Happy Semiquincentennial, suckers!), certain City Council members could continue squabbling like it's, oh, any old year, and donors could fail to catch Franco Harris' vision for the Pittsburgh Promise program.

But judging from how the rain held off just until Saturday's tour winners were announced, providence, serendipity -- call it what you will -- has been in our favor lately. I prefer to think of Sunday's late-breaking storms that postponed the sprints Downtown as just blips on the radar.

Even Philadelphians are getting on our bandwagon. One cycling jersey that caught my eye Saturday featured the famed Pittsburgh skyline. It's the work of a couple from the City of Brotherly Love. They launched a new venture, "City Cycling Jerseys," just in time for the tour, and Pittsburgh is the second city on their ambitious nationwide list.

Like their jersey, Saturday showed Pittsburgh at its best. We finished lunch at a sidewalk cafe as the cyclists ended their trek from Ligonier with three laps around SouthSide Works. Hundreds lined Sidney Street, so excited they even cheered the motorcycle cops who zoomed in front of the procession. On a cool-down lap, the day's winner rode along the barricade slapping hands with cheering fans, most of whom stayed for the Tour's Stage 5 awards ceremony.

After greeting Luke Ravenstahl as "Mayor Ravenstock," the master of ceremonies reminisced about a long-ago trip here for a race in which -- no kidding -- "Mayor Matlock" (a k a Sophie Masloff) had to hold up the starting gun for so long that, by the end of all the delays, she was accidentally pointing it at her own head.

He said he thought Pittsburgh was a city he'd never want to see again. Now he couldn't get over the city's energy and good looks. We were happy to cheer him on. We only get one semiquincentennial. We're making it count.