Hot off the press!

Be there.

Next, please.

December !st. Yeah, it's still here. It seemed to be quite a distance away a few months ago. The city was melting the rubber off my old Cane Creek rims and food stayed hot even on the slowest most convoluted routes to it's final destination. And those tight, dimly-lit, Brooklyn street's and their black cats... Those curbs that jump out of the shadows.

The Six Packs are gone - raced and won by folks with hidden talent that reveals itself on the backsides of shady-green mountains after three p.m. on Fridays. A fixed-gear Champion of the Universe was crowned in a beer-drenched battle unbeknownst to the local Frolfers who wandered just beyond the treeline in Westover Park.

Then, two weeks after the Invitational-mud settled on Tear Jacket Knob, the Blue Ridge Cyclocross Cup gave way to frosty mornings. Rock Town took the trophy back from the Foof (Charlottesville). It's strength lays in the collective effort of four Country Club Malt Liquor pillars.

I rode for three hours today, traversing back and forth across the hilly Shenandoah Valley, until the sun fell. A mountain bike ride is in the works for tomorrow at 9 a.m. with JB. Gotta beat the rain before it beats us.

Rock Town Rally

Only days after the Tidewater Classic, the year's final local domestic MTB throw down, I rallied with a surprisingly motivated Rock Town Crew for Round #4 of the Blue Ridge Cyclocross Cup.
The last few days of sunshine and warmth have been nurturing for all sorts of outdoor play time. Today our sleepy little town, as well as the rest of the Shenandoah Valley was greeted with overcast skies and a chilly drizzle that made stoking the furnace and folding freshly cleaned race clothing from Sunday's mountain bike race seem more alluring than an hour drive in the rain to race with a damp, cold chamois in the heart of Foof Town. And when the hour hand struck three this afternoon I was already drifting towards the softness, encouraged by the fact my phone was still as silent as it so pleasantly had been all day after I dodged Jeremiah's interval-ride call in the morning. Then, a minute later, the proverbial "shit" hit the fan when Suzy Q Haywood from down the block rang the phone off my desk. The text read: 'Crossin' tonight? Carpool?". Any thoughts of abandoning were immediately erased as I frantically rang the go-to crowd to get the plan knitted before I got back to Sue. I called Chris Scott first who was just a few exits away from Rock Town on 81 coming back from a weekend in DC. Yo, the Suburban a go for the Blue Ride Cup tonight?, I said. "Nah, it's in the shop". With the rowdy group-mover out, we had to get creative with a few vehicles - some taking people and some taking bikes. Chris took care of Misty and Paul. Suzy and I jumped in the Element with Jeremiah while Andy and Celina swung around with their Toyota with the mad rack setup and grabbed the bikes. They were bombing out of town as the calls were being made so, thanks to the wonders of cellular technology (and Andy Smack actually answering his phone - for once) it all worked out.
So, one way or another, everyone who wanted to brave the journey over the parkway to Foof Town was able to. Save for a few missed souls in the form of Carpenter who was apparently hunting frantic animals and the SBC duo of Kyle and Colin who used their reasonable judgment. And of course our rec-center friend, Ryan Fawley, who had to work 'till nine.
The drive was dark and the rain pelted the hoods of the Rock Town Brigade. Jeremiah was bummed that he forgot his grippy front tubular tire and would be relegated to sketchiness on what was sure to be a slick course. It was good to have Sue along for the ride to balance out the intense history of racing, training, travel and competitiveness between Jeremiah and I. I'm happy to report we've both matured, somewhat, since those more eccentric bike racer days, so conversation was functional and pleasant.
We rolled into a mostly empty parking lot at Foof Town's Tonsler Park. There were a few cars with a handful of riders slowly spinning around the parking lot. I don't know about you, Suzy, but I'm staying in the car until the last second before the start, I said. Waiting until the last possible moment to prepare, I'm finding out, seems to be a motivational technique I've developed as my tolerance for the wet and cold has wained over the last few years. Meanwhile, Jeremiah was stumbling around trying to change his front tire to one that had a little more "bite". In the end, his attempt was futile as the other tire had a leak and he had to swap it, again, with the "bald" one. I think after all these years of constant self-motivation, Jeremiah, like me, has the need for a certain amount of chaos right before the start to get his engine going. He has a few years on me but still... By the time race-time came around, the scene had ballooned to 20 + racers and 10-15 spectators which was motivating for everyone.
The start was casual, unlike the mad-dash rampage at most sanctioned events. But, since the BRCC is underground and rad, the first lap is a "friendly lap" for people to warm-up a bit and check out the course before the madness begins on the second lap. The friendly lap also gives the pack a chance to sort itself out since there are no categories other than the Foof, Rock and Queen towns. Ultimately, It's one big happy effing family.
Andy Smack threw in some friendly fire on the friendly lap and really gave us a chance to experience the sketch that was the BRCC round 4 course. It took us around slick, off-camber, 180 degree turns, through a wood chipped jungle gym with moving barriers, up several sets of cement stairs and up a 3 foot wide paved-path with 5 super tight switch backs. There were two steep downhills one of which crossed another section of the course - we just yelled to avoid a full on t-bone collision with other racers. Disc Brakes were a choice commodity over the classic cantilever cross brakes. So I had the advantage with the mountain bike on a few spots along the slipping slide like course. This blog post is already too long so I'm not going to go on trying to defend my -race-winning- steed.
And so there we were, Andy Smack smacking down the field for a solid 20 minutes before relinquishing the lead to Jeremiah, Bruce, Chris Scottistan and myself. The racing was pretty tame for a while since the slick course could only be ridden so fast. Eventually, after everyone had a shaky lap or three, the racing got tighter and our passes by the lapped riders, respectively, became more frantic and less gentle. Jeremiah and I ended up in a final last lap battle during which he pointed out the fact that I was on a mountain bike several times then proceeded to put me into a prickly hedge when I tried to pass him for the "final" move. Ha! Only to be expected and welcomed in this sport, really. I used the last stair section to gap him off for good when I chose my usual line between two cement barriers and almost smashed into a disoriented spectator. I managed to still sprint across the line ahead of him by a few bike lengths. It was a knock-down drag-out last lap! Jeremiah told me afterwards that his gamble on the last section had to do with the fact that if I hit the lady he would have surely gotten a gap and won. Dirty, filthy sport this is. So good, though. And nice work, Jeremiah. See you in the A.M for coffee like a good neighbor.
Bruce of Fooftown hosted the after party with a warm house, two homemade pots of chili and a tray of cornbread. Rock Town brought the Camouflage High Life.
The roadside fog lights kept us all on the road back over the mountain. Now it's Night Time in The Little town. Still raining.

Interviews and Insights from Blue Ridge Cup #4. Charlottesville, VA

It's late. My brain is rattling and I've had a full evening. A sweet evening with nothing. Nothing but some goodness cooking fowl at the Stokesville Camp ground followed by four bands in a tiny basement. Good. I've got some ginger tea now. Was reaching for the sleepy time eXtra but it's been exhausted. Tommy M. has thoroughly stoked me about heading out West this winter for some big mountain shredding. All this while cooking chicken on an over sized grill fit for cooking a wide assortment of large animals (or the veggie equivelent). It was amazing that I made it out there at all. 30 min. of driving and all. Filled the tank with petrol on the way out, too. Almost stayed at the house working on the myrid of projects I have going after this morning's pre-iron cross ride with JB and Andy. That was nice. Reminds me of the days I spent oblivious to the world while bicycle racing as a junior.

And so it goes. Here and now. Still. Sweet Jesus, how much longer will this continue?

Rock and/or Roll

Kermit

Favorite new friend in the 'Burg.

Late night loitering

Nice visit from (most) of the JV squad last night. The lights are on
here at 240 Sunrise.

Pointing at stuff

Crossing great North Mtn into Folks Run yesterday morning.

Lots and lots

Well, I'm tired. The days have been full and I've been taking naps. The A.M routine is rolling alright and Jeremiah and Andy are sure to provide company on the rolling roads on the outskirts of town while the sun is high in the sky. Harrisonburg, Va is small, no doubt, but it's not lacking things to keep one from hitting that snooze button one too many times in the morning. I've been riding a bit, using my friends well established training routines to ride the coat tails of. And it works fine. Really. I can toggle between Jeremiah Bishops recovery weeks and Andy Mckeegan's pre-season 'cross rocket sessions in the hills. We did some steady riding up Reddish yesterday. 3x20 minute efforts to be exact - an hour of riding up for 20, descending back into the valley and then back up. We saw hikers and they were like "we thought you'd be heading up again", or so we thought that's what they said trying not to imagine it being a pedestrian harassment of some kind. Andy rides too close to the center of the rode when he descends. And that just scares me since I feel like I may see him smashed on any given turn.

The Six Pack Downhill races have been awesome. Although the first one a couple weeks ago left a pack of 20 or so of us waiting at the top of a mountain being swarmed by sweat/blood thirsty insects. And last Friday when Sue George, Whitney and I broke trail through several miles of stinging nettle bushes that left us itching and swollen for the remainder of the ride. Then I had a welcome back high speed crash that left me clinging to the very tree that took me out and limping my way down the remainder of the timed downhill like a injured, leukemia ridden, kitten. At the bottom I dabbed my freshly bloodied chin, tossed the bike, gave people high fives and enjoyed my endorphin high. One after another, riders rallied into the final steep to the finish. Sometimes we'd just hear a loud snap followed by a body and bike crashing down the side of the mountain, missing the finish all together. People cheered fantastic! Rightly so. Back to the parking lot, licking our wounds. Drink a beer. Hit the Six Pack Party at the winner's house. Surf a hoverboard around the yard and ride home in the dark. There's trail work to be done in the morning.

Pedaling hard for multiple one minute efforts in the morning with JB and Andy. Radio Paradise is choice late-night listening.

Finer points

Sharing my lack of frisbee-golf knowledge with Conrad Bishop earlier
this evening.

Metal on metal

240 Sunrise Ave

Harrisonburg, VA

I could hear the scraping before I even left Brooklyn. But man, upon inspection this morning with my friend Justin, there really wasn't anything providing much stopping friction on those brake pads - and hadn't been for miles. Should've changed them when Fly offered to help when we were both still in Brooklyn a week ago. The amount of stop and go from that guy alone should've been reason enough. I mean, the lack of braking power seemed almost like a good thing for me leaving NYC. I needed a reason not to stop and turn around - because I would have and almost did several times before I hit I-81. Sitting in traffic on Canal street headed towards the Holland Tunnel, I remembered all the time I spent hustling time-sensitive packages up and down those packed avenues. I sent a shout out to Kid, Squid and CycleHawk via twitter in memory of my former constant radio contact.

I made it to Aurora, WV by one A.M after a stop at sheetz in Oakland for a late night egg shmiscuit and donut(s). The next day I hung out in Davis and almost immediately fell into the cloud of inertia that hits me when I go there. I took it as part of the recovery process and had a beer and burrito with Mom that evening before heading back to Aurora. Later we hiked by the house that recently endured a triple homicide. I felt numb as I walked by thinking about the story and wondered if anyone could ever actually live in the house again.

In the morning I went for a ride that sort of resembled training. Sort of. It was on an old loop I did when I lived in Aurora. Although beautiful this time of year, it was a little depressing and felt like some sort of come-full-circle landing. Visited Roger at BWB and had lunch with the east-west crew before heading through the final handful of mountains into Harrisonburg. Now I'm here and JB wants to ride for an hour. Full circle? At least I have fresh brake pads.

Greenpoint

Brooklyn, NY

Sunset

Mason School Rd.

Visiting an old MD loop this morning.

Jumping ship

Temporarily, anyway.

Brooklyn, now

A storm moved in
this afternoon
as I napped
And brought with it
the most pleasant
breeze
I've felt in a while
Relief
And the evening
Became cool
And stayed cool
These summer nights

Leaves

Are changing color and falling on the ground. Already.

Dog days

The days are getting heavy. These dog days of summer, man. Early a.m. and late evening are really the only pleasant times to do anything - and the a.m. doesn't exist. Today I poached some space in a roommates air conditioned room. It's a completely different world. The brain swelling goes down slightly and functions better with the use of a few more synapses. Granted, synapses that are a little further apart than they should be but still useful if they're given room to amass.

Delivered more wine tonight than any other time this summer. Always multiple bottles and without the task of decision attached. Just tell me what's good and I'll agree.

Playing around this cement maze of one way streets between the handrails. I know all the cracks, the dips. I can read the height of curb on the most dimly lit streets. Streets where the black cats roam and cross your path.

Crickets exist here.

A Fox followed me all evening.

The only cure is midnight Seltzer.