Merry Christmas, bicycle man!

It's that time of year again; mall traffic, sugary treats, commercials and advertisements talking about the newest gadgets and why we have to have them, and the threat that a fat guy with a beard won't commit mass home invasions while we sleep to give us said gadgets if we've been naughty.

I'm not here to preach to anyone what "the real meaning of Christmas" is, but this year was the best example of what the most stripped-down version of such a potentially commercial holiday is really about. Some of you know that my dad has abandoned our family. For the record, I'm not going for pity points here, no one liked him anyway and we're all better off. It's left me to spend the day with the only members of my family that I deem "normal," if you can call us that.

For our family in years passed, and many others across the country, Christmas morning was just the way the television portrays it, whether it's a heart-warming family special, a disfunctional foray of Griswold-like antics, or some balance of the two. This year, and perhaps like many families across the country, during such harsh economic times, there was no early morning rush down the stairs to see what Santa had left us, no gift opening ceremony, no church service, and no table with twelve place settings. Instead, it was sleeping in, enjoying a ham & egg breakfast and pot of flavored coffee with my mom, going to the movies, and not seeing my brother until he woke up at 2pm.

I had given up on going to church years ago for my own reasons. What's worse than not going at all, in my opinion, is only going on Christmas and Easter. I have come to terms with my relationship with God, and I pray anywhere and anytime. Last night, I decided to attend my own personal midnight mass by going out for a bike ride. I had noticed that the manger scenes set up at various locations were sans baby Jesus, until after Christmas day. I was curious as to who was responsible for placing Him there and when it actually took place, but by the time I made my way around town, minutes after midnight, He had already miraculously arrived. As I neared home, I passed a corner bar with a crowd of smoke-emitting youths standing out front. I kept my eyes straight and braced myself for whatever drunken insults that were about to be hurled my way, when suddenly one of them yelled out, "Merry Christmas, bicycle man!" I gave a couple flicks of my ringabell and returned his well wishes.

Something else that was out of the ordinary for our family in past Christmas traditions was that we had never gone to the movie theater, as I had found that more people than I originally thought actually participate in. Such was the case when I saw that the parking lot looked like the mall the night before. I had seen a preview for the movie "Up in the Air" and was still not quite sure what it was about, but the critics said it is the best movie of the year. Since it's still 2009, I decided it was a worthy claim, since Hollywood had 11 months to do better. It had nothing really to do with Christmas, but rather did have a large bit to do with the sad truth that thousands of Americans had lost their jobs in the last couple years, which relates to me directly. It also had a bit to do with love and relationships, and I liked the message they sent, which relates to me indirectly. I don't know about best movie of the year, but I do recommend it. It stars George Clooney, whom my grandma thinks I share a striking resemblance.

I can smell the scent of turkey and sweet potatoes rising from the kitchen, two floors below, to my old room, which used to be the attic, where I sit now at the desk that used to be mine, before the computer that now belongs to my brother. In a few minutes, I will be seated with the two members of my family that I love the most. Maybe we will lament the fact that it's just we three, but it will only be in passing as we laugh about how no one there is drunk enough to throw a plate of food like a frisbee and make everyone else at the table uncomfortable. Here's to the best Christmas ever and the only real gifts that should matter to anyone, the love for the people in our lives who matter the most to us.

Merry Christmas

P'burg

This was the final race of the NJ Cyclocross Cup series and my last race of the season. One last chance to correct all my previous mistakes and go for the gusto one more time. The course was perhaps the most technical of the series which gave me an immediate edge. I've found the "roadies" have a great deal of trouble negotiating roots, off camber turns, and mud, but for anyone with a mountain biking background it's a cake walk.

Last week I made the mistake of busting out way too strong and blowing up on the first lap, having not saved anything for later and never fully recovering before the race ended. This time, I knew to sit back near the front, but not in front, and wait until the leaders began to crack before making a move. I started in the front row, but eased back to about 12th for the first lap, keeping an eye on the big guns. If they attacked, I'd be ready. By the end of lap 2, guys ahead of me began fading and I started moving forward without even riding faster, but by then my body was ready to ramp things up anyway. I had seen where on the course I could make up time and I was feeling stronger by the minute. I began sprinting on the short straights, picking up a second here and a second there.

All the racers in the top ten were fierce competitors who came from different cycling disciplines; some roadies, some time trialists, and some mountain bikers. Spots were being traded everywhere. Roadies outran guys on the flats only to be overtaken by mountain bikers on the corners. Alex Belgiovine of Westwood Cycle, a TT'er, gets the medal of honor if you ask me. He definitely had the fitness engine to spank everyone in the C field at every race, but succumbed to crashes and technical problems that kept him off the podium. He was my favorite competition all season and I wish him some better luck next year so he can finish up front where he belongs. After some trouble today, we ended up finishing 8th and 9th and it was a pleasure to cross the finish line with him.

I'm sad the season is over. Since it's my first year of CX, I only just got to know these guys and will miss the scene around the races each week. Today is the hardest day since the 2010 'cross season is as far away as it could be. See you all next year in the B's!

Am I out of focus? Or was I just going too fast?

Finally Jdog and I have a legitimate battle!

Angelo about to pass me and continue on to a podium. Nice job!

The steepest run-up I've ever seen.

The turn of death! My little brother couldn't get enough of the carnage that went on here!

Smiling because we just decided to go to Fudd's. And it was snowing!

It was sticking on top of Jugtown Mountain, but not anywhere else unfortunately.

My victory dance.

Bros.

After we were done eating (actually after Anthony inhaled his burger in 5 seconds and watched me eat for the next half hour), we went for the Air Hockey Best of Three Championship of the Universe. I won of course. Here's some video footage of my game winning goals of games one and two.

Barnstorming: Part 2 - T.N.T.

So we were back again in Augusta for round two of the Sussex County Cyclocross event and the second-to-last race in the NJ Cup series. After crashing hard last week, I vowed to keep it on two wheels and have a better performance today. I succeeded in both those goals, yet I am left wishing things had gone better still.

I rolled in to the venue with AC/DC's T.N.T. cranking on the stereo. Nothing like a little "fire me up" music to get the head in the right place. The lyrics suggest "winning the fight" among other antagonistic phrasing. I had the song in my head at the start of my race and low and behold, I got the wholeshot and was leading for the first half lap around the time in the song when the lyrics say, "... watch me exploooooooooooode!" Well, I didn't physically explode, but I certainly blew up, as T.N.T. has a tendency to do.

I faded and watched guys go by me, trying not to count them. It took me about a lap before getting my second wind and I slowly began to come back. I was aware of what sections of the course I could make up time in and which ones I could rest and I passed a few guys with ease while others were less willing to let me go.

Some friendships have developed with many of the guys I've been lining up with each weekend, and after I'm done trying to kill them, it makes me happy when I see them have a good race or say something positive about one another. With one race to go, it can be any of us who ends up placing in the state championship and I'm looking forward to defending my now very slim chance, but I would be happy for all of them because we've all worked hard to get there.

I also want to thank Stacey Barbosa of Montclair Cyclery for coming to my aid at the start of my race. I had accidentally ripped my number completely off when trying to remove a layer at the last second, having missed my call-up, and almost the start of the race. She helped me pin it back on and I got to the line just in time for the 15 second warning. Thank you! She got some good karma sent her way as she also had a great race today. Way to go!

HPCX

This is what cyclocross is about; cold, rain, and a lot of mud. Only someone who has been there could know how it feels to pedal with everything you’ve got through deep mud and to feel like you’re not going anywhere. To quote Garth from Wayne’s World when he was having his hair cut by the Suck-Cut, “It’s sucking my will to live!” Well, it certainly does suck.

I found my spot, once again, in the back of the pack at the start in a field of 54 C racers. I got a decent warmup and prerode the course, so I felt ready for what was about to go down. From the gun, I just went all out and tried to pick off as many guys as I could on the first lap. Unfortunately, I came out too strong and didn’t save anything for the end. I blame it on the mud, since the effort put into powering through it is twice that of what you’d normally expend. I still managed to finish in the top half of the field, which at this stage of the game and this being only my first cross season, is pretty good.

Despite the most abysmal conditions, I had some of the most fun I’ve ever had on a bike. Cross is amazing that in such a short time, one can experience every kind of emotion ranging anywhere from, “This is awesome!” to “Why the f*ck am I doing this?” I can’t get enough of it.

Barnstorming: Part 1

Lined up in the front row during call-ups. How can I mess this up?

Like this.

Today was day one of the Sussex County Cyclocross event and to date is my favorite course in the NJCup series. It had everything (except mud, but wait 'til next week), two climbs, a sand pit, off-camber technical curves, a run-up, twisty high-speed descents, paved and unpaved roads, and my favorite... a zig-zagging path that took us through several barns. Awesome!

I got a great start and was 4th in a breakaway group including points leader Bill Romollino, 4th ranked Greg Pizarek, Jason Fenton himself of Halter's Cycles, and myself. I was feeling great and happy to be doing battle with Jason who is a worthy adversary, but certain events such as crashes or flat tires have kept us from dueling it out to the end each time we faced off. I buzzed his tire a few times and we traded back and forth in the first half of lap 1, until I removed myself from the chase.

Upon successfully storming the first barn, we made the tight left on a dirt road to enter the second. The turn had a huge patch of loose gravel, making it super sketchy. I had the inside line and overcooked it, lost traction and low-sided it at full speed. As I was falling, my head narrowly missed the red painted bench that protruded from the side of the entrance to the barn. Luckily, I hit it with my hand to protect my melon. There is red paint on my glove and left control lever. I proceeded to slide, crit-style, on my side until grinding to a stop. I felt tears building and my heart breaking as my view perpendicular to the vertical saw a chance of a series title and the lead group disappear.

I picked myself right up, ran into the barn and attempted a remount, but my rear wheel wouldn't spin! Damn it! A quick systems check to find the issue; Derailleur straight? Check. Chain on the chainrings? Check. Brakes? BRAKES!?! The culprit: my left caliper had been shoved beneath the braking surface of my rear wheel as a result from laying the bike down. I quickly popped it back out, made sure it worked, and was on my way.

Mentally, my race could have ended right there, but I wasn't about to let it. My hand ached, my control lever was askew, and I had no idea my leg was hurt yet, but quitting never crossed my mind. I continued to race at full speed and the gap the leaders had on me never grew, but it didn't diminish either. I just didn't have the ability to ride at 2x my capacity to bring them back and I settled in to the position I was in when I recovered from my crash. I still managed a respectable finish and am really happy that I was able to enjoy such a great course.

Afterwards, I was talking with my friends about our race and how I wiped out when one of them pointed out the blood coming through my shorts. I hadn't felt anything, but I pulled them down to reveal a nice raspberry on my thigh. As my adrenaline wore off, the pain began to set in. Bill Romollino was so kind as to supply me with some first aid supplies to take care of my leg. On the course, he was the only guy I really wanted to beat the crap out of today, but off the course he is one of the nicest people I've met through racing. His dog, Camper, is awesome, too.

I stayed until the last race and enjoyed cheering for all my friends and I'm happy that they all did well in their respective races. Now, I'm going to take care of my leg, keep up with my training, and continue to prepare for next Saturday, which will be a return to Sussex and another chance to do better and not eat it on the gravel. I was a little bummed about what happened when it happened, but I'm over it now and will use the experience as my ammunition to kill them next time. In the FACE!

1st degree MURDER!!!

Ok, I just had to call it that. Check back soon since I am yet to collect all the photos from this race and a full report is yet to be written. One thing I can say is, this was the best day of my life.

Hup! Hup! Hup!

I would have gone faster, but I think my number was acting as an air brake.

I love this picture because it depicts two polar opposite states of heart rates. I'm turning myself inside out and the lady in the chair is passed out. Greg Pizarek is seen nipping at my heels.

I'm a model, you know what I mean?

Of all the things I am, a model I am not. However, I volunteered myself to show off one of the latest pieces available from DeathRow Velo cycling wear at one of my races this weekend.

http://rutgers.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=3775033&id=57346057572#/photo.php?pid=3775033&id=57346057572

Happy Birthday to me!

I was a little undecided as to what to name this post. A few good titles came to mind, i.e. "Gettin' my kicks!" since my race number today was "66", "2nd degree MURDER!!!" which you will see the relevance of as you read on, but sounded a little too menacing, and the one I chose since yesterday was my birthday and I gave myself the best present ever.

I turned 29 yesterday, my last year as a "twenty-something" before I hit that milestone that suggests to some that they are no longer young. I'm not really worried about that. It was however my best birthday thus far for many reasons. The birthday wishes began the night before and continued all through the day with a few unexpected surprises. My day started with a ride with my boss on the cross bikes before heading in to work. It was as perfect of a November day as a birthday boy could have asked for. The woods were literally golden with the early morning sun shining at a low angle through the last of the leaves still on the trees boasting their most vibrant shades of yellow. Once at work, while receiving a birthday phone call, suddenly the lights switched off and a chorus of voices rang out to the tune of "Happy Birthday" and a candle-lit ice cream cake hovered through the darkness in my direction. I was as blown away by the kindness of my coworkers as the candle was after the making of my birthday wish. Later that night, I headed over to my Mom's house for pizza and, yes, more cake! Looking back, it seems that a diet of cake, pizza, beer, and cake is just what the doctor ordered for the day before a race.

I'm not really 31.

Everyone was in the birthday spirit!

Today was the First Annual Horseshoe Scramble cyclocross race hosted by High Gear Cyclery in nearby Warren, NJ. A special surprise was the attendance of my sponsor DeathRow Velo's creator, John Landino, whom until today was more of a pen pal than a team manager. I arrived early enough to chat it up with him and get a good warmup and a pre-ride of the course, which I was very familiar with since I helped create it and turned plenty of laps in the weeks leading up to today's race. I pre-registered for it over a month in advance, but still found myself lining up worse than mid-pack during the call-ups. For once, my mind was clear at the start and from the whistle, I just went to work picking people off. The course was very fast and didn't offer any areas where riders could take a rest from the intense pace. By the time the pack entered the first technical section, I had worked my way into the top ten.

Now, fully aware that I was near the front, I knew I had to keep the pedal down to make my passes stick. The cheers from my friends were all I needed to slay people as I overtook them over the barriers, around corners, and even on fast straight sections. I was hauling ass and my body showed no signs of letting up. As I passed the start/finish area (not sure of what lap it was) I heard the song "Panama" by Van Halen (for those of you who don't know, it's the song played in the movie "Superbad" when the cop is doing donuts in the police car) playing over the PA and it fueled yet another attack on the riders ahead of me. When the race ended, John was quick to point out that he thought I came in 1st. I didn't believe him, since I was sure there were riders ahead of me and figured myself to be no better than top 5. I went to see the officials and asked who came in first and they gave only a number (not mine) and not a name. I asked where #66 placed and they said 2nd. WHAT?!? I was so shocked, all I was able to say was, "I'm 66!!" with a huge beaming grin. I couldn't believe it! I felt I was killing it out there, but 2nd? I murdered them in the FACE!

It was really the best present I could give myself, a podium finish. Also, what better way is there to make a good first impression to your sponsor than to get on the podium? I also found out later that the leader and I did an extra lap because we were so effing fast, we were among the lapped riders as we came through the start/finish area. Unsure if the race was over, but given the impression by the cheering crowd, I raised the front wheel in true Nick fashion as I crossed the finish line. I know I say this all the time, but I really mean it when I say that THIS was the best day of my life!

Wheeee!!!

My winningsesseses.

Along the D&R

ABC and I went for a recovery ride this afternoon along the D&R towpath. Having left so late in the day, I was sure of two things: I was going to witness the sunset and it would be dark by the time I got back. The autumn sky is capable of some pretty amazing things. The air smelled of winter and a growing season's worth of detritus had covered the trail almost completely. The only sounds were of an incessant crinkling of leaves beneath my tires interspersed with the high-frequency buzzing of one getting captured in my brakes.

Aside from the awesome sky, a highlight of the ride was on a portion of the trail where the canal and river are right beside each other, with only the towpath to separate them. It was nearly too dark to see, but I noticed a four-legged creature on the trail. I initially thought it was a dog, but did not see it's owner anywhere and as I got closer I realized it was much too large to be a dog. It was a huge buck and when he noticed me, he began to run. Only he had nowhere to go since the river bank was on one side and the canal's on the other, so he ran straight down the towpath with huge leaps and bounds. I immediately gave chase, following that flashing white tail with everything I had. As soon as he had some room to get off the trail, he slipped into the trees and vanished.

Halloween critical mass ride

This Friday was the monthly Marty's/Morristown critical mass bike ride, but since it was the day before Halloween, all the participants were invited to wear their costumes. I dressed as a hipster, which was pretty easy and a good excuse to wear really tight pants. I don't dress like a hipster, but when I put together the right combination of clothing articles from my usual rotation, I was able to create a convincing ensemble. I added some knuckle tattoos for good measure.

I can hear you

This past sunday was the Westwood Velo Cyclocross event at Campgaw Mountain, which, for me, was the race that almost didn't happen. I had gotten a little mixed up to say the least regarding my race schedule. I thought I had pre-registered for this race, but in actuality it was for a race two weeks later and what happened was basically I found myself at the right place at the wrong time. When I approached the registration tent and answered the attendant's question of "What category?" he then pointed to the race currently underway and said, "There they go." My heart sank under the weight of the realization of my error. Since there was no other race that day that I could "legally" participate in, I settled into my role as a spectator and cheered for my friends. It looked like a really fun course that only got better as the day went on and I was seriously bummed that I couldn't ride it.

About an hour before the Cat 2/3 race, my friend Jdog rolled up and asked why I wasn't racing. I explained what happened and how I couldn't race with the B-men. When he asked, "Why not?" I really didn't have a good answer. He said he was going to, so why couldn't I? Good point. He marched me over to the registration tent to not ask, but tell the guy I was going to race as a Cat 2/3, even though my license permits me to only race Cat 4. I needed $30 for the day-of race fee and I didn't have it. Thank you, Art for spotting me and yes I DID get your money's worth! I learned later that it's allowed to race up, but not down. In either case, the guy said if I podium they wouldn't be able to count my points. I said if I'm in 3rd at the end of the race, I'll hit the brakes before the finish line. We laughed and he handed me my number.

I was super excited and I ran all the way to my van, passing Laura in the parking lot waving my number over my head yelling, "I'm going to race!" A quick change into my Superman uniform and a short warmup later, I was lined up at the back of the pack just in time for the 30 second warning. Moments later we were off! My friend describes 'cross racing as having nowhere on the course to win, but only places where you can lose. I'm reminded of motorcycle racing in the respect that the riders are pushing their tireless machines to the absolute edge from the start of the race to the bitter end, and only when an opponent makes an error does he get overtaken. Cross racing is as close to motorcycle racing as I've ever experienced. When I raced XC, the field was so spread out that oftentimes I would ride entire laps without seeing another racer. With cross, the course is much tighter and no sooner do you overtake someone, you can immediately set your sights on the next guy. Whoever can push their bikes harder into the corners, use their brakes less, accelerate faster, and negotiate the barriers better will find themselves moving up through the field.

The first two laps, the pack was still bunched up and passing was a little tricky. Once things spread out a bit more, I was able to take the best lines and carry more speed through the corners allowing me to close gaps on the guys in front of me. My favorite thing about cross racing is how involved the spectators are and how awesome it is to hear them cheering your name. My friends were littered throughout the course and were cheering for me each time I went by. With every time I heard my name, I got a surge of energy that carried me until I passed my next cheering fan. I had a mantra going through my head as I rode faster and faster and passed more riders; "I can hear you. I can hear you." I thought as their voices fueled each attack. It's one of the best feelings in the world. Thank you. "Thank you."

Overtaking a rider on the staircase.

The best place to be cheered for, at the top of the hillclimb of pain!

I can hear you.

Recovery day

Since the one spill I took on Sunday left my knee a bit tender and unwilling to bend, I decided to exercise the joint and went for a summit hike on Mt. Tammany. This was certainly one of those spiritual hikes that are great for clearing one's head. I was in the woods alone all day. There are no words to go with these images. Only thoughts. Okay, maybe some words. Enjoy.

Halfway up. In the crack.

A slab-tastic discovery! This thing is HUGE!

Note to self: Bring climbing shoes next time.

They weren't even afraid.

Mt. Minsi

I lowered myself onto this little outcropping with a sheer drop before me. I was actually shitting. I hope my mom doesn't see this.

The swimmin' hole. Gotta come back next summer.

An entire hillside of ferns.

This is no rolling stone.

This reminded me of that scene from Into The Wild when he's on the PCT.

The rainbow tree.

Where I was (above).

A stage of life complete and a whole new chance to grow and learn.

I almost step on bugs. Then I take their picture.