The perfect storm

When just the right combination of simultaneously occurring conditions converge on themselves, it is sometimes known as "a perfect storm." This rarely happens in the meteorological world, but the term itself can be applied to any combination of obscure happenings that result in a unique outcome, which is also typically rare. Today, two perfect storms materialized and I found myself caught in both of them.

I quit my job this morning. I have worked at the same garden center for almost 15 years and today was my last day. The last decade saw a major decline in our profitability as competing nurseries sprouted up (no pun intended) all around us. The owner of the business, despite our suggestions, refused to do anything to change the way things were being run and so we began a downward spiral towards our own demise. The economy is certainly playing a role, but the effects wouldn't be so hard felt if we made some slight changes. The owner's stubbornness resulted in the business' worst year ever, barely making payroll each week, and ultimately the first layoffs in its history.

I saw all of this coming, we all did. And knowing that this was not the future I wanted for myself, I knew when the chance came I would jump ship before it sank. A few books, some important and influential people, and some recent life experiences have led me to the realization of what my Soul Purpose in life is, and before it was too late, I put a series of events in motion to be sure that when the ship did in fact sink, I would have a well-stocked life raft. The news came out last month that the ship had struck something and was taking on water when I learned I would be getting laid off for the month of September. Knowing I had more than a month to prepare for my exodus, I felt secure that I would be prepared and ready to become full-time at the bike shop by that time. Last week, disaster struck as the hull separated and the "abandon ship!" call was made as I learned I would be laid off for the month of August as well. In a panic, I threw what essential items I could grasp into my life raft and shoved off, setting myself adrift on a sea of the unknown.

There was a mix of emotions this morning. I was excited to finally quit that place, having thought about it for so long. I was sad to leave my closest friends behind, happy I would never have to see my dad again, and slightly nervous about what would happen next. To clear my head, I did what works best for that affliction and went for a bike ride.

Normally what happens on days such as this is I spend the nicest part of the day confined to my job, bored to death, and wishing I was 1,000 other places but there. I wait all day until closing time when I can finally get on my bike, but either I am too out of it to want to ride that late, I need to cook dinner, or most often a massive thunderstorm hits and ruins any chance of getting out anyway. Today since I left work early, I took advantage of the opportunity to go for a mid-day ride. The weather forecast called for late afternoon thunderstorms, possibly serious, with heavy rain and hail. I figured if I put in a full day, my plans to ride would have certainly been foiled. As I neared Round Valley just after noon, the already overcast sky began to darken and tiny rain drops began hitting my windshield. NO! Not again!

I parked my van and debated just going for it and getting rained on, which I wouldn't have minded and actually enjoy. But knowing that this wasn't just a passing shower, I decided to wait about 10 minutes and see what happened. Holy crap was that a good idea! The storm that ensued found me cowering in my van, wincing at each crack of thunder with the full belief that the wind was going to blow my van right over. The sound of sheets of rain hammering my sheet metal walls was deafening. The song "Riding The Storm Out" by REO Speedwagon was playing in my head as I imagined that this is what it would be like living inside a snare drum if it were at all possible.

Eventually, the storm abated and I was able to get on with my ride after all. This storm wasn't quite the perfect storm, but perfect is exactly how I would describe the resulting weather after it had passed. The air was cool, the darker grey sky was giving way to a lighter one, and the late afternoon sun was trying desperately to break free one last time before disappearing behind the horizon. It was the best conditions I could have asked for and..., alright Nick! Every day you have the best ride of your life, we get it! But with the perfect storms now dissipating, I was able to find a slate washed clean, a calmer sea, and my new course in life clearly marked ahead of me. Sail on.

This is the view out of my perfectly clear rear window of my van. The rain was so heavy you couldn't see a foot in front of you. Make sure your volume is turned UP!

The tail of the storm

Caught in suspension

Action photo!

I don't recommend doing this

A really gnarly tree

Hey-o! Look what I found!

My kinda sign

For sizzle!

Before I get into this new post, I'd like to show you what my latest batch of trail mix looks like. Enough Reese's Pieces that one would become ill before coming close to finishing them all. That sounds like a dare, Harry!

So the H2H series has taken a break for a while, not seeing us back again until September, but the racing action elsewhere is in full swing and I wanted to get in on some of it. The Mid-Atlantic Super Series progresses straight through the summer and I decided to participate in stop #9, the Denzeisen and Quigley Summer Sizzler at Gloucester County College in Sewell, NJ.

Preparation for this event was no different from any other so far, except that this was going to be my first time heading to the venue the night before and camping in Vanzilla somewhere on the premises. Well, that didn't go over too well. Upon arrival in an empty, well lit parking lot on the campus, I was instantly met by a security vehicle. What? Can't a suspicious, white, unmarked cargo van drive onto a college campus and park curiously in the middle of the night? Actually the security guard was pretty cool and I did the whole "yes sir, no sir" routine. Since there was no way he would let me stay (I didn't press the issue), I asked where he'd recommend I go and his best suggestion was an all-night diner up the road. I was cautious, but since he reached into his bag of ideas and came up with nothing, I decided I'd try to follow his directions and maybe along the way I'd find something better. Find something better I did, but more on that later.

His directions stunk and I found myself immediately lost. I was getting tired, it was late, I didn't feel like driving anymore and I was running out of patience. That's when it hit me! There must be a Walmart somewhere close by, I'll go there! A quick call to the directory assistance got me the number to the nearest location and the night operator there was about the sweetest woman I've ever conversed with via the telephone. I was sure to ask if it was cool if I spent the night in my vehicle and explained why I was there and she said the manager was all for it. Walmart rules.

Like a beacon of hope. Welcome to Walmart!

She gave me excellent directions and I found it with no problems. I was so pleased with her kindness, I called back once I arrived just to tell her I made it safely and thanked her again for being so helpful and friendly. She wished me a good night sleep and good luck in my race the next day. Needless to say, I went to bed with a smile on my face. It's amazing how easy it is to be kind to others, yet so many people are douchebags. I love nice people.

Another nice thing about Walmart is their impeccable restrooms. I've never been to a public restroom that I can say actually smelled pleasant. But this one did. I made use of it before going to bed and once more before leaving in the morning. I noticed the supply of hand towels and paper ass gaskets had been replenished by the restroom gnomes during the night. I slept so soundly that I actually was awakened by my alarm clock. Upon entering the store one last time before leaving, I was reminded how much I love the sweet little old ladies they station by the door whose only job it is is to say "Welcome to Walmart!" and smile. They serve double-duty as receipt checkers and personally I would love to see one try to thwart a shoplifting attempt.

I arrived back at the college, secured my parking space among the fleet of roof rack-equipped vehicles, and began cooking my oatmeal tailgate style. I met a few nice people in the parking lot who compete in the MASS including Travis and Blake, who are fellow Singlespeeders and ended up finishing 2 and 3, respectively. Nice job, guys! I made my way over to racer check-in and was met by a cute girl wielding a Sharpie marker. It was her purpose to mark every racers' right calf with their designated class. She giggled and commented on my courage to race with only one gear as she dropped to give me my semi-permanent "SS" tattoo on my freshly shaven leg. When she moved up to the guy in front of me, he lifted his pant leg to reveal an unusually hairy gam. I kinda felt bad for the girl and probably felt better about shaving my legs than I had since I first went through with it.

Bam!

After getting my shit together, I headed out for a warm up. I ran into my friend, Mark Waters and we chatted it up as we paced each other around the campus. I hadn't set any goals for this race because I was coming off of an intense week of training leading up to the KVSP/NJSC race two weeks before and a very light load in the week passed, but I then decided that I was going to try to hang with Mark since he's been finishing strong and slightly better than me in previous races. The start of this race was a little different than how H2H events begin. Rather than being stacked up in rows, the entire field was spread out only one rider deep and 20 riders wide, encompassing the entire SS field. It was like a motocross land rush start where it's a free-for-all going into the first turn. I kept with my usual strategy of getting up front early and settling back like I always do.

As we entered the first portion of single track, I found myself in the top 5. I had no idea what the course was like, except for that it had lots of roots and some short, steep climbs. The first three guys had pulled way ahead, leaving another rider and myself leading a freight train through the unknown. Since what was around every corner was a mystery at this point, I found myself braking hard trying not to blow off the trail and then trying to regain my momentum afterwards. Not even ten minutes into the first lap, I overcooked a sharp, root infested left turn, my bike was out from under me faster than I could get my feet out and I laid there having one of those "Shoulda had a V8" moments. It was the hardest crash I ever sustained in a race, but I got right back up. Unfortunately, since the trail was so narrow, I was forced to let the rest of the freight train through before I could get going again. I never heard so many people say, "On your right, one more, one more, one more, one more..." I had gone from about 5th to 14th in the blink of an eye. I was totally bummed, but knew the longer I lamented the fact that I had so much work ahead of me, the more work I would be creating. So I just settled in and began my epic comeback.

I was pretty much all alone the rest of the first lap. Each group was separated by two minutes and the SSers were the fourth group to leave. Naturally, some of the back of the geared field in each group is quick to get overtaken by the non-geared riders and these people were my only company as I picked them off one by one. The entire 6 mile loop was contained within less than two square miles, so it wasn't uncommon to see the same riders that are ahead of you passing you multiple times heading the other way as the trail double-backed over itself. Mark was the caboose of that freight train and I saw him more than a few times as I attempted to reel him in. By the middle of the second lap I had bridged up to him and, though I didn't feel like I was riding as fast as I was, I was certainly hauling ass. I rode his wheel for a few seconds when I knew I could easily outrun this group. I got past Mark and hit the afterburners and began working my way back through the SS field.

On the third lap, I was passed by one of the guys way off the front in the beginning who suffered two broken spokes on the first lap. He was also chewing his way back to the front and when he went by me, I said, "Nice recovery! I saw you with the technical earlier. Keep it up!" I latched onto his wheel and we both approached a rider, Kevin, who was sitting comfortably in 8th place. At several points in the course, there were log rides in the race line with bypasses along side. Only a few times the bypass was the faster way, but I chose the log rides also because they were so much fun. "Technical recovery guy" passed Kevin and now I was behind the both of them. We climbed a small hill with a log ride on the left with a sharp right turn at the top. Both of them took the bypass while I saw my chance to kill them both and surged over the logs thus passing Kevin and kept my momentum up to successfully pass recovery guy on the inside of the right turn. I was pumped that it worked and kept the flow going for the next mile when recovery guy then passed me and left me for the last time.

My third lap proved to be my fastest. In the entire 1:34:52, lap three was sub 30 minutes. I was cooking and felt awesome. One of my favorite sections of the course was a horseshoe curve whose apex was the highest point with a tree right on the inside. Its roots created a sort of staircase up one side and down the other. The first two laps saw me forced to get off and run because of riders in front of me unable to clean it. Lap three I was hauling ass and saw the turn was almost completely vacant except for one guy hike-a-bike-ing around the outside. I dug in and ascended the rooted staircase, lunged up and over the exposed protruding stump at the apex and flew down the other side. I was so jazzed that I screamed, "YEAH!! WOOOO!!!" Kevin, who was a ways back told me after the race that he heard someone whooping it up.

He actually gave me a good run in the final miles. I noticed he was catching up to me as we passed each other in opposite directions. I made sure I hammered up each of the two last steep climbs before the final switchback descent into the start/finish area. I wasn't going to give him any chance to catch me. When the trail finally opened up to reveal the finish line, I put the pedal down and thought he was farther back than he actually was. If it wasn't for him letting out a roar as he accelerated towards me, I would have never known he was there. Kevin's friend, I forget your name, sorry, who joined us after the finish commended me on how fast I reacted to the attack and began sprinting. We had an epic drag race to the wire where I just locked my core muscles and proceeded to pedal complete circles, pulling my feet back through the bottom of the pedal stroke and ultimately edged him out. It was so close that neither of us knew how it ended, but once the results were posted, he came up to tell me that I had beaten him by one-tenth of a second! WOW! I learned that that earned me 8th overall, my second best performance of all time.

I can't say that I'm not upset about crashing and that I am not wondering how it would have turned out had I ran that pace without crashing, but that is all a part of the experience. This was the first time that I was not the lead dog and had the actual physical ability to claw my way through the field to get back to the front. My making up six places and turning such hot lap times can only be seen as a testament to how far my fitness has come and how effective my training has been over the last few months.

So remember when I said earlier that the security guard's shitty directions actually led me to something better than a place to sleep? While I was driving around aimlessly during the night, upon making a wrong turn past an old used car lot, I noticed a cluster of old bicycles chained together on the roadside. One of them in particular stood out from the rest, as it was clearly much larger than the others. I made a mental note of its location and figured I'd go inspectigate after the race the next day. Mark and I went out for a few beers and a burger I had been craving since days before the race. While we talked about many things bike-related, I was reminded about the bikes I saw the night before and Mark got really interested. We decided to go check them out and after many more wrong turns, we finally found them. It turned out that not only did the fellow who owns the lot sell used cars, but he is a classic bike collector as well. He had some really old stuff, some of which in exceedingly good condition.

I spotted the bike that caught my eye the night before, an all-original 1966 purple Schwinn Twinn tandem, and she was even more glorious in the daylight. Upon closer inspection, I realized that I had to have it. Now, I have been pretty good at controlling my impulsive spending habits lately. Currently I am in the process of getting laid off from my full-time job of the last 15 years and am switching careers into a full-time bike mechanic gig that will pay half of what I make now if I'm lucky. I have to sell my car because I can't afford to make payments anymore and I don't have enough money to cover my mortgage next month. I wouldn't call Mark an enabler by any stretch of the imagination, but his reasoning for why I should buy the bike were exactly my sentiments and perhaps I just needed to hear it from someone else. I figured I could not let such a gorgeous bike get away from me and I would regret not buying it the rest of my life if I looked back on this day and decided not to buy it simply because I couldn't afford it. Instead, I looked forward and imagined the awesome experiences I would have while riding it and all the joy it would bring me and the deal was sealed. A quick bit of negotiating and a trip to the nearest ATM and I was the proud new owner of this beauty:

I can't wait to bring it into the shop and get to work on restoring her. Also, had I not made the choice to purchase a van to use as my mobile residence, I wouldn't have had a way to bring it home and perhaps would not have even thought once about buying it. It's funny how things work out. After all the events that occurred today, I can honestly say that this was the best day of my life. I didn't place in my race, but I still brought home some metal.

Oh, raspberries

If there was ever anyone to make the most and the best of his only day off in months, it's me. It began after we closed the shop on Sunday afternoon and five of us guys rode our bikes to Five Guys Burgers and Fries. We took our cruisers and fixies for the 12 mile round trip from Morristown, through downtown Madison and into Chatham. The place is awesome and the burgers were killer. It's the second burger joint I've ever visited that offered grilled onions as a topping. Nice. The ride back was slower since our bellies were full of greasy goodness. Since I was continuing on northward the next day, I decided to spend the night in my van again and leave for my friend's house in the morning.

I met Laura and Howie for a bike ride through Harriman State Park in NY which, upon its inception, was only to be around two hours long. That sounded fine to me, but even still had me wondering how I'd hold up against a couple of A+ riders after not only doing a 30mi group ride the day before where I got dropped, but also the burger cruise where I filled my guts with crap. When we arrived and finally discussed our loop, the two hour ride grew to 4 hours. I was excited to be able to ride in such a beautiful place I'd only heard about, but I was dreading being dropped by someone I look up to and hold in such high regard as a cyclist and an athlete and someone I'd met only an hour ago. Fifteen minutes into the ride, I was convinced that I was going to die. I debated with myself, "Should I speak up and ask them to slow down a bit?" "Fuck no!! Keep pedaling and shut up!" The last thing I wanted to do was tell Laura that I couldn't hang. The feeling can be equated to an embarrasing sexual performance and being told, "It's okay, that happens to lots of men." It would have been the worst thing for my self esteem and it wasn't gonna happen. The good news is that the further into the ride we got, the better I felt and soon the notion of dropping out was as far from my mind as returning to work the next day.


With my body now in tune with my mind, I was able to start really enjoying the ride. I had never experienced such sustained climbs and long, twisty descents and I found myself swerving unintentionally as I marveled at the scenery. This one road climbed up from the Hudson River valley on a shelf carved into the mountain, twisting along up and up. It was two lanes wide and had a stone wall to keep travelers from falling over the edge. The view was breathtaking and so was the climb itself. I felt like I was in another country, somewhere where I've seen those mountainous routes in cycling magazines and was thrilled to be experiencing something like this so close to home. The ride down the other side was equally as exhilarating. We reached speeds topping 40mph as we yipped and carved our way through the corners. I couldn't discern whether the huge smile on my face was from pure joy or the direct result of the effects of the wind from riding so fast, but I'll take it either way. When we reached the bottom and our bikes lost momentum, we had the chance to glance back through a clearing to see what we had just ridden down. I wished I had a camera to capture it, but the image has been permanently etched into my memory.


Later on in the ride while crawling up Bear Mountain, Laura pulled off suddenly. I don't usually like to stop on rides, especially one such as this, because it can be very hard or even impossible to start again. But in this case, there absolutely could not have been a better reason to pull over. All along the hill beside the road were wild raspberry bushes! I was grabbing at them with two hands and began shoving them in my mouth until my cheeks bulged. I am salivating as I'm typing this just thinking of that tangy sweetness exploding on my tongue. It was a true pleasure to enjoy one of nature's many wonderful gifts, right there on the side of the road, free for the taking. Free for anyone who happened upon them and had the time to stop and enjoy them. I feel fortunate to be one of those. I could have spent an hour there, gorging myself on those wild raspberries, but it was necessary to keep moving. I had felt the pang of hunger a little earlier in the ride and with only my vitamin-enriched water (which I happened to be temporarily out of), just the knowledge of putting solid food in my sytem did wonders for my spirits.


The last portion of the ride was a long winding descent and was the perfect way to complete the loop. Pedaling wasn't necessary, but I just wanted to go as fast as possible. I was amazed that I still had energy to hammer as well as enough wind in my lungs to whoop it up around the many tight turns. Once back at our vehicles, we stripped off our cycing gear and dove into our recovery drinks. On the ride back, rather than taking big scooping handfulls of trail mix, I noticed Laura was selectively picking through it. It was a homemade blend that I threw together and I knew exactly what she was doing. She was eating only the Reese's Pieces. When I called her out on it, she threw a great analogy at me relating trail mix to what life has to offer us. There is something in it for everyone and it's up to us to pick and choose what we want to get out of it. Some people like walnuts while others like dates. She likes Reese's Pieces. But I do too and was left with only coconut shavings and nut fragments thank you very much! Laura is right, though. We do have the choice to create the kind of lives we want to live for ourselves and thus take from those experiences what we will. So my next batch of trail mix will consist of nothing but Reese's Pieces.


It was difficult to drag myself into work today and I will submit that I did EVERYTHING I could to put it off as long as possible. When days off only come about once a month, it's a pleasure to spend them in the company of good people doing the things we love. Best day off ever. And, oh, I wouldn't be myself if I didn't say this, too: Sunday I had the best ride of my life.

The funky bus

No matter what orifice you're leaking from, we've got you covered.

The "eyes rolled back in the head" photo. Leading the charge up the first climb.

Utah Joe and I bombing downhill on lap 3.

Snaking my way through the trees before hitting the switchbacks for the last time.

Following the previous post, I have been super psyched to have my retro-cruiser up and running and anxiously awaited every chance I would get to ride it. Such was the case last Saturday when I was putting in a full day at the bike shop and counting down the minutes until closing time when I could hit the streets of M-town. My plans were awash when a thunderstorm decided to strike just as we flipped the "Open" sign to "Closed."

I sought refuge in my van, which was parked behind the shop and was to be my shelter for the night, since the morning would find me waking early to head for the NJSC race at Kittatinny. It was barely 7pm when I had finished eating some cold spaghetti while listening to my iPod and decided this was going to be a long night if it continued to rain. I'm very excited about the living in a van (down by the river) idea, but didn't enjoy the feeling of being stuck in it with nothing to do for hours. I vowed to make sure I had some form of entertainment for the future, but luckily the storm dissipated and I was able to get on the bike after all. I ran into my friend and coworker, Jay, at the Dunkin Donuts, who was also riding his bike. We cruised around for about an hour until a second wave of storms hit so we decided to call it a night and I fell asleep to the sound of torrential rain pounding on my sheet metal ceiling.

Sunday morning, I got up before my alarm went off and I gotta say I was feeling awesome. I made my oatmeal on my camp stove and grabbed a coffee from the bakery next door. I was to meet another coworker, Geoff (pronounced "Gee-off"), at the shop so we could rock the tour bus to the race. It's an old retired school bus, painted up with our shop's name and logos and is definitely a head-turner. Our boom box was barely audible over the sound of the struggling diesel engine and the squeaks and rattles coming from within as I bounced from my seat sans a safety belt. The last few roads were bumpy and winding and I began to feel my oatmeal doing an about face in my digestive system. Great, here comes pukey kid. Fortunately, the sheer awesomeness of riding in such a cool bus took the focus off of my guts and before I knew it we had reached our destination.

After checking in, I returned to the bus to hang out with some Team Marty's riders under our tent. Someone brought up the fact that this was indeed the NJ State Championship race and if you hold a USAC license, you are eligible for contention. I was told if I thought I had a shot at placing, I should go buy an annual license right there on the spot. It's amazing how the next series of events unfolded, and why I acted on them is miraculous. I was feeling great since I awoke that morning, and I felt my week of training leading to this race went well, but did I really think I had it in me to place in the top 3? I figured it couldn't hurt and it's beneficial to carry a license anyway, so I borrowed the $60 and got my USAC license.

After a short warm-up session, I proceeded to the staging area. It was a large field with a mowed roadway through it where we lined up in anticipation of the start of the race. The SSers were first to go, so I began walking along the edge of the tall grass to get to the front when suddenly dozens of bees began emerging from beneath my feet! I yelled to warn everyone and attempted to flee, but the nearly 100 cyclists were packed so close together, it was impossible to move. I escaped without getting stung, but many riders weren't so lucky. Fortunately, there were no allergic reactions and everyone was able to race.

My strategy is to get a jump on the field right from the line and to hang in the front as long as I can. What usually happens is, one by one, riders pass me as I move backwards through the pack until I settle in where I am comfortable. The start of this race was no different. I was in 2nd place from the gun and held the leader's wheel all through the prologue, up a short climb and into the first technical uphill section. Once we got into the single track, the lead guy began to pull on me and I decided it was way too early for an attack, so I kept the pace up, but not so that I would burn out. With the first place guy now out of sight, I was now leading the pack. The first climb was brutal because my heart rate had just been elevated from the super fast start and now I knew I was the man to catch.

When I completed the first lap and tore through the Start/Finish area for the start of lap two, I was still in 2nd! A crowd of people who I didn't recognize was cheering my name and it gave me this surge of power like I hit the afterburners. Some geared riders caught and passed me on the second lap. When I heard a bike approaching from behind, I would listen carefully for the distinct sound of derailleurs and chain slap and would be relieved that it wasn't a singlespeeder catching up to me. My friend, Leo, who I met in TN earlier this year, is an ex-Columbian National champion. He caught up to me in a fast, flowing portion of single track with banked turns. I didn't know who it was until he shouted something like, "You're doing great, Nick! Keep it up!" I recognized his voice and said, "Leo, you wanna pass me just say so!" and he said, "No, you're doing fine." Knowing he was behind me and hearing his words of praise gave me another burst of energy. Once the trail opened up a bit before a climb, Leo shot past me and took off at a ridiculous pace not to be seen again.

Two singlespeeders passed me on the second lap at different times. One was mtbNJ's own Norm. I calculated that this put me now in 4th place, not a podium spot, but by far the best damned finishing position thus far for me. I didn't learn until later that Norm was just riding a single speed and was not in my class. The other guy to pass me was indeed in my class and I hung onto his wheel for a while but had to let him go.

Heading into the 3rd and final lap, actually in 3rd place but thinking I was in 4th, I was still riding at the same pace as when I started. I marveled at how my body was not slowing down and how every time I needed to attack, the power was there every single time! I would clean a climb or a technical section and had enough steam to sprint at full speed to widen the gap on the guy behind me. I noticed that after an effort like that, and even a few times during one, I would get one of those deep, cleansing breaths that allow you to draw more oxygen and breathe slower. I use that as a sign that my body has recovered and I can put the hammer down again. Two other single speeders passed me about halfway through the third lap and I hung onto the latter of them. A mile or so later, he bonked and I ate him up. In the final mile, my friend Utah Joe caught up to me. I also offered to let him go by, but he said I was killing it on the downhill portion and he didn't need to pass me just yet. Once the trail opened up into a field, I let him through. He was the eventual winner of his class and he told me the last SSer he passed was a good several minutes behind us. This gave me the breathing room I needed to just focus on my riding and get myself to the end.

I prayed that I wouldn't get a flat, probably something I shouldn't even have been thinking about, but I was so excited to be in the top 5 for the first time, I didn't want to blow it. Utah dropped me on the last steep climb on the course and I was alone for the rest of the race. I wove my way through the trees leading into the super fun switchback corners for the last time and hauled ass down the fire road to the finish.

I knew I had done extremely well for myself, but it wasn't until the results were posted that I learned about Norm and realized that I actually had come in 4th! That was intense in itself, but nothing could have prepared me for the shock that was to come. Out of the three guys to finish ahead of me, one of them had either not been from New Jersey or simply did not have a USAC license, so that bumped me up to 3rd place in the State Championship. My first podium! During the awards ceremony, my heart was beating faster than it had during the race itself as I waited for them to call my name. Leo did the honors of capturing the proudest moment of my life.

On the ride home, I told Geoff that I decided that when we got back, I was going to go to Qdoba Mexican Grill to celebrate with a huge, honkin' burrito. He liked my idea so much that we hit it up on the way. When I got home, I couldn't wait to notify my coach about how well I did and how great I felt that day. That was when he informed me that he planned on having me peak for this event and that I delivered for him at exactly the right time. He said it made his day and that in turn made my day to know I made his.

I know I have said this before and I am positive that I will say it many more times, but this was the best race of my life... until the next one! :-)

In with the old

It gives me great pleasure to reveal to you my latest creation, "The Hulk." Unlike its namesake, it is not doomed to roam the face of the Earth alone for eternity. It has been resurrected and given the freedom to roam the streets instead. I may have mentioned before that building custom bikes is a hobby of mine. I don't think you can beat the feeling you get riding a bike that, rather than being built in a shop and sold from the showroom floor, you have taken the time to dream up what you want it to be and how you want it to look. The satisfaction of selecting each piece, assembling it, and watching it take form is almost Godly.

Every bike that I own, except for one, was pieced together as per my own specs. The difference between them and this one is that this is the first bike that was built only by me. I have been fortunate over the last few months to learn the necessary skills to assemble every component on a bicycle. I have gone over every part, overhauled every bearing, and even built my first wheelset. I got a little help with the wheels, but only my hands touched them. That's the way I wanted it.

I took the Hulk for it's shakedown run today and it was stellar! What a fun bike! It's exactly the kind of ride I was hoping to get out of it, one that cements a smile to your face that lasts long after you've swung your leg over. Awesome.

The "before" photo (not the actual bike).

The very first wheel I've ever built.

On the workstand while NOT working at the bike shop. Don't tell my boss!

Nitto Moustache handlebars. Nice.

Purple chain. Kinda like Purple Rain, but different.

The crown jewel, a Brooks B67 saddle.

Ta-da!

Thank you, Wendy.

Three-day weekend

The view from inside the van, where I slept wrapped in sheet metal and the warm orange glow of the halogen security light in the Marty's parking lot the night before the race.

Breakfast time at Lewis Morris Park. Oatmeal anyone?

The mobile bike mechanic. Last minute prep before race time.

I'm failing to come up with any creative way to describe last Sunday's race. To put it simply, it was just about the best weekend I could have had, and a much needed one at that. I've been working two jobs, seven days a week so I haven't had much time to myself. With the 4th of July falling on my normal day off, I was awarded an extra day off for an awesome three-day weekend.

Friday I worked at the bike shop, which I don't really consider to be work, and came home to celebrate my brother's 19th birthday. Saturday was spent at a BBQ/birthday party with friends from the shop and of course, Sunday was H2H race #4, the Lewis Morris Challenge sponsored by Marty's Reliable Cycles. Rather than drive home the night before the race only to return to Morristown the next day, I parked the van at Marty's and spent the night inside it.

On raceday, I woke up feeling fresh and walked over to Rico Pan Bakery for a large coffee then drove over to Lewis Morris to secure my parking spot and begin cooking my breakfast, tailgate style. I love the moments leading up to the start of a race. I threw my bike up on the stand to swap out my rear wheel for my other one with a smaller cog. Most SS racers were running a 32:20 gear ratio, but I knew that LM was a park where I could gear up and not be at a disadvantage. I opted for a 32:18 and it proved to be the best idea ever.

I've grown used to mashing a big gear from all the time I've spent riding my fixie and SS almost exclusively for almost a year before beginning my training. I knew I would have the strength to clean what climbs there were and be able to really kick it down on the flats and descents when my competition would be spinning out. My plan worked perfectly. Not only did I claw my way through the SS field, I also caught countless geared riders who began their races ahead of me. I not only overtook racers on the flats, where I really thought I'd make my moves, but also on the climbs. When they would downshift excessively and slow down to a crawl, I had no choice but to gun it and hammer past them. I surged on the adrenaline rush I got when I crested a hill and still had the power to sprint after it. At any moment when I allowed my cadence to drop on a flat, I yelled at myself, "Come on! This is why you chose this gear, NOW F*CKING PEDAL!"

Lap 2 saw a great cat & mouse battle between me and mtbNJ's own Woody. He would pass me on climbs only for me to reel him back in on the flats and descents. We went back and forth into the first climb on the 3rd lap when he finally dropped me and secured 7th place. I then waged war against a rider named George from team NYCmtb. We traded spots for all of lap 3. One thing I really love about racing is how, even though it's a heated race, one can still have a conversation out there. George was humbled by my courage to run such a tall gear and cheered me up each hill. On the last climb before the final downhill, he blew up and I never looked back. I powered to the finish line to learn later that I took 8th place, my best finish ever!

On another note, a rivalry of sorts has developed between myself and my friend Joaquin from Team Marty's. I beat him in the first two H2H races by only a small margin and he caught me in the final turns of Singlespeed-A-Palooza in a total upset at Stewart. I sought redemption at H2H race 3 at Stewart and I beat him by 6 minutes, but I learned later that he was dealing with a stomach bug. A win is a win, I guess, but I didn't feel I could count that one. Last Sunday, I smoked him! Fair and square. That made me very happy. =) We're very evenly matched, so I'm looking forward to seeing how we do in the second half of the season.

After my race, I exchanged my riding gear for my camera gear and hiked out onto the course to shoot video of my friends. They thank me like it's a chore to do it, but I enjoy it immensely. It's a great scene around the Start/Finish area and I meet great new people at every event. Marty's provided each racer with a commemorative pint glass with a coupon for a free beer at Sona Thirteen in Morristown, so a group of my closest friends and I headed over for a post-race pint and some much needed carbs. I savor these moments. Some coworkers of mine showed up just as my friends were upping to leave, so I decided to stick around and hung out with them until almost 10pm. I really wasn't looking forward to returning to work the next day, so I was milking this good time for as long as I could. One highlight from the evening was after we left Sona, my friend said she needed some sweets for the energy to drive home. I proceeded to say the creepiest thing I have ever said to a girl, which was, "Why don't you come with me? I've got some candy in my van." A riotous laugh ensued and rightly so.

Next Sunday is race #5 in the H2H series at Kittatiny Valley State Park. I haven't ridden there before, but I hear it is a little more technical and less steep than LM, so I think I'm going to stick with the taller gear. We'll see how it goes!