Fruits of your Labors

Snowshoeing through Virginia Meisner Sno-park.

My workshop, where the magic happens.

These last two weeks have been a lesson in simplicity. This type of lifestyle is definitely one I can get used to. We all do our part and we help each other out in many ways. I am so thankful. Rather than piping oil or gas in to heat our home, there is a fireplace that we constantly tend to. We chop the wood ourselves. We go out in the snow to restock the wood pile on the deck.

I have been tightening my belt and my pockets are shallow, but that does not mean that fun can't be had. I have not driven my van since I got here. Instead, every errand and every trip has been by bicycle. There is a great feeling of satisfaction getting where you need to go under your own power.

There are many adventures to be had in the snow. Rather than buy lift tickets to get a ride up the mountain, we climbed up ourselves with snowshoes strapped to our feet, snowboards in hand. Every next agonizing step was welcomed because that was just one more foot of descending on the return trip to the bottom. I have never ridden powder, nor have I ever ventured into the back country where the lines made are your own. As we hiked up, I was giddy with suspense as I mind-shredded my way through the trees that we walked by.

Once at the top, the landscape transformed to a harsh, wind-blown, vastness. The views we drank in were that much more awesome because we had arrived there by ourselves, with no help save for the encouragement and the excitement shared by our friends. I was nervous to begin the descent, having not ridden a snowboard in two years, and that was on grainy east-coast slop. We started down, and it took a few attempts to learn how to trim the board so that it planed over the snow, rather than plowed through it. Once I got that down, front leg boned out, weight on the back foot, I began to float and carve my way through the trees, yelping and yipping the whole way down. When I reached the bottom, I amazingly emerged from the woods right where our car was parked. I literally rode right to it. High fives all around and talk of the experience filled the car the whole ride home. It was the most amazing thing I have ever done.

I was surprised also by how good I felt. Nearly every day has held an adventure, whether it has been a snowshoe trek through the woods, or commuting around town on the bikes. There has really been no time to rest, except for the night. I am pleased by my level of fitness and will happily watch as I only become more fit. I even attended my first yoga class today.

It has been amazing so far and I love the satisfaction of the resulting payoff of so much hard work and collaboration when like-minded people work towards a common goal. The best things in life are free.

CX Nats

My athlete, out near the front

It has been an intense weekend as well as the few days leading up to the Cyclo-cross National Championships in Bend, OR. I arrived here in town only two days after completing the Bill Woodul Race Mechanics Clinic in Colorado Springs and now it was my chance to put everything I learned to use while taking on the role of being Laura Winberry's mechanic.

To sum up my first few days simply would be to say that it has been a whirlwind of introductions with some old, but many more new acquaintances. I'm at a place where someone can plug me in to the social pipeline! It's been difficult to remember so many names and even more difficult seeing those same people again and not remembering who they are, but I am getting better at that every day.

One introduction was more important than any other, and that was with Laura's race bike. It was paramount that every single part of that bike was checked over and tuned perfectly. Some issues are easy to pick out and remedy while others are more subjective, like brake lever feel and tire pressure. She understands her bike and can communicate well what she's experiencing, which then makes my job so much easier. We walked the course on Thursday and discussed the good lines and tire choice. I felt so pro! Working with Laura in a professional athlete/mechanic relationship has been a pleasure. We did a pre-ride on Friday just to get a feel, although the weather would change the course considerably by Sunday.

Applying much of what I learned at the clinic has helped me to provide the support necessary to make sure she had a positive experience on the bike and that her focus could be precisely on her own performance separate from the bike. One area where my education was most useful was minutes before call ups when Laura approached me in the pits after her warm up with a loose cleat. Naturally, an inability to safely get her foot in and out of the pedals could have dashed any chance she had at a solid performance. I kept a level head and didn't reveal the severity of our situation. So while she went to have embrocation applied to her legs, I used my legs to run around like a maniac trying to find some thread lock, teflon tape, or new cleat hardware. The guys from Shimano stepped up (no pun intended) and gave me new hardware for her cleats.

I thankfully found her in the Hutch's tent under the care of Marcel Russenberger and Paul Curley. I replaced the hardware and she made it to the starting line on time. I then returned to the pits where I stood at the ready on each half lap with a pit bike, though she had no need for it. I only yelled words of encouragement as she passed each time, which is a pretty important job in itself.

I got to talking with a few of the other mechanics in the pit. The guy next to me had an athlete also in the top 30 who was ahead of Laura. We waited for our riders to emerge from behind the ridge, and then we saw them together, side by side as Laura took the impossible line on a steep drop and made an incredible pass on the inside of the sharp right hander and then back up that same ridge into a swooping left and back down past pit lane! I was screaming my head off at this point! It was the greatest pass I had ever seen and she made it stick. After they passed, the mechanic turned to me and calmly said, "That was my girl she just passed." and I did one of those raised eyebrows "ah hah" faces, when in my mind I was saying, "FUCK YEAH!!! IN BOTH OF YOUR FACES!!!"

Laura went on to a great finish, succeeding in meeting her self-set goals, and told me afterwards that her bike was awesome. I have a deeply vested interest in her success and I see her potential, so I am ecstatic that I have her trust and was able to play such a vital role. We both put in our maximum efforts and we together produced a solid result. And to think this is only the beginning. By the way, her cleats held.

Oh and of course I got in on a little of that racing action, too. My race was on Saturday with the Masters 30-34 Men. It was cold, windy, snowing in the morning then changed to rain, and muddy, muddy, muddy! I started in the last row and finished almost last, but I felt great and had a blast out there. I cannot put into words how much I love the fact that the fans will cheer just as loud for the guys battling for last place as they do for the battle for the lead. The smell of brats on the grill and the beat of the marching bands' drums were even more fuel for the fire. I truly loved the experience.

There's me, 273, wishing a meteor would strike the Earth to end my suffering on lap 1.

This is that same drop where Laura made that amazing pass. Even I didn't take the inside line! Crazy!

The Amazing Journey Pt. 3

Leaving Colorado, I passed a cloud factory.

Somewhere along Rt. 13, somewhere in Wyoming

Rt. 20 in Oregon. This video just doesn't do it justice.

On the road again, snow-free roads at that, and on my way out of Colorado on Rt. 13 North into Wyoming. Up to this moment, I had never driven on a more beautiful road. It was two lanes wide and cut across the high desert at the foot of the Rocky Mountains themselves. I couldn't help but think how this lovely sight would not be seen and how everything amazing that was to come would not be had I not listened to my heart and dared to follow my dream. They were the first happy tears I have ever cried.

Passing through Wyoming and on into Idaho, the sun had set and temperatures began to drop below freezing. At first, the fog was only patchy and required a decrease in speed by about 10mph. But by about 9pm, as I climbed over some smaller mountain passes, I encountered something I had never seen before. Frozen fog. Although the roads were dry, I feared they would become icy thinking that that is how black ice forms. I would soon find out that that wasn't the worst thing that can come of frozen fog. All the while, the difference between humidity and temperature on either side of my windshield caused a haze that made it difficult to see through. I messed with my defroster and A/C settings to clear it up but nothing seemed to work. I passed a tanker truck and safely moved back into the right lane. When I hit the wipers to clear the spray from his wheels, it smeared all the dirt and the water formed a layer of ice on my windshield, making it even more difficult to see. I hit my washers thinking that it had some anti-ice formula in it, but what happened next was the scariest thing I have ever had happen to me. I hope my mom isn't reading this!

As soon as the washer fluid hit the window, it froze. The wipers then distributed it evenly, thus completely whiting out my windshield in seconds. I was still doing 60mph and could only see through a small slit at the bottom, just enough to be able to see the lines in the road. I hit my four ways and pulled over to the shoulder as the tanker sped by me. Coming to a stop, I couldn't believe what had just happened. I sat there until I was able to melt the ice off and exited the roadway at the next rest area.

I sat there and ate dinner, thinking about what happened and the danger in pressing on. I was headed for lower elevation, the fog was going away, and I really didn't want to cut my drive short because I didn't want to risk not reaching Bend by the next afternoon. Once again, I sat there thinking when I just fired up the engine again and rolled out of there. The rest of the night's drive went on without a hitch.

Two more hours and I reached Twin Falls, where I was sure I would find a Walmart. The expanse of lights ahead made me believe I would have no trouble finding this oasis of the open road. I drove directly into the center of town and began making right turns. Every third turn, I would go one more block so as to not go in circles, but to expand outwards in a spiraling fashion. I explored every corner of town until I had seen a Costco, a Lowe's, a Home Depot, a Kmart, a Target, and many other large stores, but no Walmart. I was just about to give up and head back to 84 and proceed to the next rest stop, when I saw the familiar looking edifice.

A trip inside to fill my water bottles for the next morning's coffee and I was back in my van making my bed for the night. It was cold, but I had been quite comfortable each night spent inside. I had accidentally ripped my sleeping bag near its zipper on the pedal of my bike and that opening allowed cold air to seep in, making me consciously aware of the coldness throughout the night. The wakeup process in these cases is long. It was about an hour and a half from the moment I woke up to the moment I was out of my bag and dressed. I made my coffee, filled up with gas, and hopped back on I-84 for the final leg of my journey.

Before, I said that Rt. 13 was the most beautiful road ever driven. That was until I took Rt. 20 across eastern Oregon and into Bend. My head was on a swivel as each curve revealed another snowy mountain, frozen river, or vast expanse of rolling white bumps. The highlight was the summit at Drinkwater Pass, where the sun shone through the low clouds turning everything a crazy shade of orange, and then dropping back below them revealing a beautiful view of the valley.

Rather than my friend Laura preparing dinner that evening, she called and said some people from Cyclocross Magazine were getting together for dinner and we were invited. I arrived at her house where there was a wonderful reunion and I was shown where I would be staying. Dinner with the CM people was an absolute blast. They were all so friendly and welcoming. What better way to spend my first night in a new town? The next few days we would see them at the races and around town and we were always greeted with smiles.

We've been pretty busy these last few days and I have been introduced to countless new people with whom I am continually impressed by the quality of their personalities. It's only been two full days spent here and I feel like I have been here a month because there is so much going on. I have this feeling of certainty that I have done the right thing and come to the right place. I have done everything I had set out to do. I am living my life. And I have never been happier.

This amazing journey has come to a close, though this very moment plans for a new journey are in the works. There are so many directions to go from here, but you can be sure it will be my heart that I will be following.

The Amazing Journey Pt. 2

A proud moment, Matty B checks out my bike. =)

The sleeping giant.

It's like the hanging gardens.

The chickens!

So when I last left you guys last, I was about to leave Ken and Sara in Denver and head back to Colorado Springs for the race mechanic clinic. It was held at the Olympic Training Center in the middle of town, fenced in and secure from the surrounding streets. My friends Matt and Eric from High Gear had flown in that morning and it was great to see some familiar faces.

After our reunion, we had time before our first class, so we hopped on our bikes and went on a recon mission around Springs to check things out. The first session was at 6pm and was just a chance for all the instructors and the students to introduce themselves. The next day would be the first of four days of the most intense instruction of race mechanics-related topics. Everything from bike washing to the athlete-mechanic relationship. Some of the biggest names in the cycling industry were there to pass on their knowledge to us aspiring mechanics.

The Olympic Training Center is an amazing facility where many of the country's top athletes reside so they can train in a controlled environment. Our classes limited us to only a few classrooms, but we had free reign over the cafeteria! Not only was it awesome to just walk up and take whatever we wanted, but the food was actually healthy. Each item had its full nutritional breakdown displayed before it, so the athletes were sure of what they were or weren't putting in their bodies. That stuff didn't interest me. I was more interested in the softserve machine and the do-it-yourself waffle irons. Whipped cream? Don't mind if I do!

Even though our physical time there was short, the amount of activity each day, as I look back, made it seem to have been longer. After the last session on Sunday morning, I had a meeting with the head dude of the clinic and the head dude of the European road program to discuss future job opportunities. By the time that was over, all of my new friends, as well as Matt and Eric, had all departed to catch their flights home. I sat in the dining area, watching a football game on the big screen, contemplating my next move.

It was a strange feeling, one I would imagine a college student feels on his last day on campus (I wouldn't know that exact feeling), knowing as soon as you stepped foot off that campus you could never turn back. And that your whole life was ahead of you. The latter feeling I felt very strongly. I had planned for nearly two years to arrive at this moment and that moment came and went so quickly. As was the way for most of the events that took place over these last two years, I just let my heart lead me wherever it wanted to go. As long as I listened to it, things were just seeming to work out like as if it was all a part of a preset plan.

I checked the weather a few times as I sat there, wondering if I should spend the night in my van there in town or continue West to my next way point. I stared blankly down at the table for a few minutes and then, as if lifted by some external force, I got up out of my chair and walked out the door. It was time to move on. Steamboat Springs lay 4 hours away in the high country and I had just enough time to get there before bedtime that night. A weather system was moving in and would dump snow in the passes. I didn't want to encounter any snow covered roads in my van and so far I was very lucky. I was granted fair weather all the way to Colorado, until the very night I arrived did a snowstorm hit. I was already safe inside the limits of the Walmart parking lot by then.

I arrived at Amy's house in Steamboat just after 11pm, after having climbed through Rabbit Ears Pass and descending down into the city limits. The passes were clear that night, but the next day a storm dumped about 4 inches of fresh powder. It was great to see Amy and her dogs Taina and Kayla, as well as Amy's sister, Erin, whom I didn't expect to be there. Amy and I took the dogs out for a snowshoe hike up a nearby mountain, then went bouldering at a friend's personal rock wall. To wrap up an eventful and fun-filled day, we all went to the hot springs for a soak. It was nice because it was still snowing as we sat in geothermally heated water.

I was concerned about the appropriate time to depart for my next and final leg of my journey. The next day would see sunny skies and temps above freezing, but only later in the day. I would need to wait until the roads cleared up before heading out of Steamboat. Amy tempted me to stay, and it was hard not to, but another weather system would be there soon and I feared if I didn't get out while I could, I may not get out for a while. It was important that I did leave on time because my next destination, and ultimately where I would be staying, was a two-day drive away.

Amy and Erin both had business to attend to at the mountain that morning, so I said my goodbye's early and had the rest of the morning to spend with the dogs. I sat on the couch with Taina sleeping next to me, checking and rechecking the weather forecast. Snow in the high country and fog later that night in Twin Falls, Idaho where I was headed. Just like the day before in the cafeteria, I just got up and made for the door. This time, my exodus was slowed by the long goodbyes given to the dogs, since I will miss them a lot and don't know when I will see them again. They didn't seem so concerned, except that I was prolonging their approach to a mid-morning nap.

In two days I would be in Bend, Oregon.

The Amazing Journey Pt. 1

Somewhere in Indiana.

There is nothing in Kansas. Nothing.

Crossing the state line into Colorado.

My first Colorado sunset.

Merckx

Devi

Beginning the climb, looking East. Denver skyline in the distance.

A place called Red Rocks. There's a theater there. You may have heard of it.

Snow-capped peaks in the distance

Mount Falcon summit

I am seated at a desk beside a cat named Merckx. A wood burning stove is humming behind me. A spare bedroom is full of bikes. I am in Denver. I left New Jersey and a lifetime of memories four days ago. And four days were spent inside my van, whether it being in the drivers seat or buried beneath every blanket I own, and whether gazing out at the endless expanse of I-70 or up at the halogen glow of the lights in a Wal-mart parking lot.

Not much can be said about driving through the heartland, which is, in a way, why I have started this entry once I reached the Rockies. I can sum up the experience in just a few sentences. After Pennsylvania, there really isn't much to see until St. Louis. The Arch was pretty cool and so was crossing the Mississippi River, although it was already dark out and it came and went rather quickly. The only other thing left to say is that Kansas is the worst state I have ever driven through. At first, it's actually quite amazing and I thought, "Wow, I can't believe how vast and endless it is." Nine hours later, I was saying "I can't believe how vast and endless this is!" but in a much more exhaustible tone. The entire time, I was waiting and waiting and waiting for the Rocky Mountains to first emerge on the horizon. Unfortunately, it never happened.

The sun had set just as I crossed the Colorado state line and I was still looking at a flat line. Darkness. I exited off I-70 for the first time in over 1,000 miles onto Rt. 24, a curvy highway that seemed to be gaining elevation, or at least it felt that way. I imagined that the road was tree-lined and that I was entering a more mountainous area, but once in a while the lights of a distant town proved that the sky was still as massive and the landscape was still as flat as before. With 20 miles to go after 12 hours at the wheel (such a long stint was partially due to the adrenaline rush of reaching Colorado Springs that night, but also because I had not seen a Wal-mart since Topeka) the tell-tale signs of an approaching storm had proven positive and I was greeted with snow. I was smiling ear to ear.

Finding a Wal-mart in this town was easy. There was not one, but three to pick from. I settled in for the night and the morning sky revealed what had been hidden from sight the night before. Somehow, as in magically, as I slept, the snowy mountains silently grew from the flat horizon that I was sure was there only yesterday. I guess John Denver wasn't so full of shit after all.

Having arrived two days ahead of schedule, I decided to take up an offer from a friend whose only ties were that of cyberspace and a passion for cycling. Ken rides for the same team as me, but this was the first time we've met. I have followed his travels with his girlfriend, Sarah on their blog and have admired their outdoorsy lifestyle, so I was excited to finally meet them and also have a warm bed and a hot shower.

It is now the first day of December and I am back in Colorado Springs. I have been reunited with my friends from High Gear who arrived here this morning. We are headed to the first session of classes. Stay tuned for part 2!

Psycho Cross

A new race was added to the NJ Cup calendar this year, the Cyclocross at Central Park of Morris County. It was held on the grounds of the abandoned Greystone Psychiatric Mental Institution, whose main building provided the eerie grey backdrop to the day's race course.

As it turned out, the CXCP race fell on the same day as the Staten Cross (SICX) MAC race, which is a huge event and draws racers from all over the tri-state area. Knowing this, and closely monitoring the confirmed riders list on Bikereg.com, I decided it would be advantageous to sign up for the Pro race. All the heavy hitters that routinely dominate the A race would either be at Staten or in Fort Collins, CO for the USGP race the following weekend. The A race carries a payout that usually goes five deep, so there was a chance I would make a little money... though at a price.

That price was suffering for a full hour as opposed to the 40-45 minutes for the B racers. Until about three days before the pre-registration cutoff, I was the only person signed up. My plan was seeming to play out perfectly. I ride my bike leisurely around the course for an hour and collect my check at the end. Well, it didn't quite go like that, as you could have imagined.

Come race day, six other riders signed up for my race, so I would have to beat two of them just to get a podium spot. Some of these guys are my friends, including Ryan Heerschap and BL, so it was going to be fun no matter what. However I knew that I was going to suffer horribly just to finish, and that it was not a question of if I was going to get lapped, but how many times?

After a thorough warm up, I headed for the starting line where I noticed that two of the riders were not present. Sweet! All I would have to do is finish and I would get paid. From the whistle, I immediately accepted my spot in dead last, but was actually able to hold the pace and hung on for the first half lap. Slowly, they began to form a gap on me that I had no desire to close. It was a long race and if I tried to hang on, I would surely have blown up.

Just finish the race. Easier said than done. This course had some really huge divots in the race line, unfortunately on some of the portions of the course where I really wanted to open it up. One false move and I could have damaged my bike and ended my day. With no pit bike or extra wheels, I was just a little cautious. I did not hold back though, and I raced at 100% the entire time. The few fans who were still there and some of my good friends were cheering me on the whole way, making it impossible to ease off.

As I rolled through the start/finish to begin lap 3, the scorer called out "9 laps to go!" and I yelled, "WHAT?!?" This was going to be a long race. Somewhere around lap 4 I got my second wind and actually felt good. I turned it up a little bit, drilling the sections where I knew I could go fast. I was actually really excited that only the top three guys lapped me and it wasn't until lap 9 of 11 that they caught me. When BL was approaching, I saw that my friend Art had stuck a $5 bill in the mud between the barriers. I rode as hard as I could to hold off BL, beat him to the barriers and claim my prize.

Since I had so much time, I really focused on my technique. I nailed every dismount/remount and rode very clean. I still felt relatively good after an hour of pain and sprinted out of the saddle to the finish. It was all smiles and handshakes at the end and a feeling of a great accomplishment. A quick change into my street clothes and I was back to the scoring tent to claim my first Pro level payout. I'm glad that my plan worked out and I am thankful for the experience to race with guys at this level and sort of hang on and not completely die in the face. I am going to switch my attention back to my training this winter and hopefully return next year with the legs to actually give these guys a fight.

My darkest hour

There's been a lot going on lately. Only my closest friends know exactly what's happening... and only my closest friends read this (I think), so I won't explain at length the details. Money, as much as I dislike the concept and choose to not let it control me, has become a problem.

With race mechanic school being paid for and my spot awaiting me, it is now paramount that I get myself out there in time. With already diminished funds, having signed my condo over to the bank and an unexpected repair to the van, it became evident that saving up enough money to get there may not be possible. Cue the untimely termination of my job.

Just when things were looking to be the most difficult, as I was reeling from a succession of blows, the knockout punch was delivered and I hit the mat. Unbelievable how I could be let go just a month before I was going to amicably part ways with my employer, with which I have been entirely honest from the start that I planned to leave for Colorado in November. The same employer who threatened to not hire me back after being laid off for the winter if I didn't agree to finish the year instead of leaving in July like I originally planned. Looking back, knowing now the quality of business owner I was dealing with, it would have been better (and more satisfying to be doing the screwing, rather than being screwed) to not have said anything at all and just gave my two weeks when I was ready to go.

Instead, the last two paychecks I was counting on to fund my trip West won't be attained. My employer also was unwilling to let me collect my full unemployment benefits, which I know is bullshit and I could go before an appeals board and surely win. But rather than go through all the effort, I did something way more satisfying. I had some of my good friends get me a job at my previous employer's biggest rival shop. I started the very next day after my last day at the other place, not skipping a beat.

Though this new job doesn't pay quite the same, the caliber of talent who work there, in only three days, have given me the necessary leads to help me find work immediately after receiving my race mechanic license. So maybe it was for the best. The saddest thing about losing my job was no longer being able to serve the customers that I have gotten to know on a personal level who have grown to trust me with their bikes.

One of them, who I believe to be one of those people put in our lives at just the right time, has shared some wisdom with me that has completely changed the way I view my financial situation. Regarding my foreclosure and outstanding debt to the bank, he told me that banks don't lend money out of the kindness of their hearts, nor because they think Nick is a heck of a nice guy and they want to do him a favor. They are in business and that business is only to earn a profit on the interest they'll collect from the money they lent me. In all business, there is risk. The risks that banks take is that some people will default on their loans. Their business models calculate for this risk as a percentage. They took a chance on me, I defaulted, they lose.

My friend told me that by no means should I feel guilty about it. He said we are taught from when we are young that if we borrow something from someone we should return it. But regarding banks and loans, it is business and nothing else. I was pretty worried about what would happen to me if I didn't pay back my loans, but not any more. He assured me that there is a protocol that banks follow to collect their money. They will try to call me, my place of work, my family members. They will try to sound sympathetic and play with my emotions, but all they care about is their business, not about me. There's nothing they can do to harm me personally and the government has laws in place to protect me, so not to worry. My mind is at ease now. Raj, I know you're reading this, so, thank you.

Speaking of things becoming more difficult as time goes on, the last race of the H2H season, the Leafblower at Ringwood State Park, was this passed Sunday. My friend, Ryan has already taken the Cat 1 30-39 series title, so he had chosen to race up and enter the Pro/Cat 1 Open division. The rules say that once you race up, you can't downgrade during that season, but since it was the last race of the season it didn't matter. That's how I was convinced to do the Pro race with him.

On top of racing against guys that are insanely fast, the pros also race a longer distance, typically one more lap than the Elite riders do. Four laps at Ringwood is not impossible for me, but ideally I don't want to take 5 hours to do 30 miles and find out that everyone had packed up to go home by the time I finished. Much to my chagrin, when I went to pick up my number I discovered, by some miracle, that the Pros would only be doing 3 laps, just like the Elite field. Phew!

Rewind a bit though. The night before, I was so stressed about my situation that I couldn't sleep. I was doing calculations for how much gas money I'd need to cover the distance and got overwhelmed. So I got up to use a calculator. I realized I wouldn't make enough money through wages alone to cover it, which made it even harder to fall asleep. It was after 2am when I finally did. When I woke up, though, I saw that it was an absolutely perfect Fall day, I was really excited to be riding at Ringwood, and I was going to see all my friends.

I had just finished reading "The Alchemist" and particularly enjoyed the message it sent. The take home message was the importance of listening to your heart. It speaks the language of the universe, the language spoken by all things. When we are living in accordance with our own personal legends, we should look for omens to assure us we're on the right path. When I was driving to Ringwood, I was looking for the parking area at Shepard Lake. I had been there before, but didn't remember how to get there. Instead of checking a map before I left, I decided to just wing it. When I turned down a road I wasn't sure of, a red Jeep Cherokee passed me coming the other way. An omen, I thought. Turned out it was the correct road and I made it to Shepard Lake.

Since I had entered the Pro/Cat 1 race, I was to receive a single-digit number plate. I may have mentioned before that I am superstitious when it comes to race numbers. My lucky number is 6, so when I got a 3-digit race number, if it had a 6 in it I was happy. If it didn't, I would try to create some kind of equation with the three numbers to try and equal 6. For example, my number at the World Cup was 263. So that was double lucky because 2x3=6 and it had a 6 in it already. So I was hoping my number would be 6 and when the lady handed it to me, I got really excited! But my excitement was short-lived because when I saw the orientation of the text, I realized that my number was indeed 9. Not bad, though. 3 goes into 9 3 times, so 3+3=6 and 9-3=6. See? Lucky.

I actually knew I didn't stand a fighting chance with these guys, so I resorted to settling into my place at the back and riding, not so much racing the course. I felt great, it was a beautiful day, and the trails were in perfect condition. I was thinking about "The Alchemist" as I was riding. The boy in the story learns to communicate with nature (not in the sense that you might initially suspect) by speaking the language of the universe, the same language spoken by our hearts. I decided to give it a try. The terrain was rocky and at a race pace, it shook my hands to the point where my fingers ached from holding the grips so tightly. When I was descending a fire road section at 20+ mph, I asked the earth to show me the smoothest line. The earth said it didn't know, but to ask the water. The water was flowing down the fire road and it told me to follow it, since water follows the path of least resistance. I must sound crazy, but this actually was going through my head out there.

At times like these, when one can ask their self how much worse can a situation get before it gets better, we're reminded that the darkest hour comes right before the dawn. Sometimes when things are going badly, at the time we don't understand why. But when we are on our path and we are patient, eventually we learn to view the situation in a different way, and we're able to see the underlying good in everything.

The way I viewed my number when I was on my bike.

Rumble in the Jungle

The setup.

Pre-race meditation in the hammock.

Apple-cinnamon Hammer Gel compliments of Tara.

I saw the photographers all set up on this burm, so I railed it!

Smiling despite the suffering.

Coog had the low angle shot at this log ride, just before the finish line. I saw him and gave it everything I had to air over it. It would either be a great pic or a great crash. I cleared it and then some!

Jungle Habitat, one of my favorite parks, was host to H2H Race #8 and the 2010 NJ State Championship. It's a very technical course that can really keep those who have strong aerobic engines in low gear and rewards those who have the best bike handling ability. That was my only advantage in the Cat 1 30-39 field, who are arguably the fastest in the series.

Once again, it was my goal to not come in last and once again I succeeded. It's also a bonus when you don't crash, and I always hope to never do that. It was a crash-free race, thankfully, and despite the fact that rock gardens and technical sections were being taken at race pace, my bike suffered no mechanical issues.

My carrot for the day was my friend Lucky, who rides for Cycle Craft and has been doing consistently better than me in the last few races. I knew we were closely matched and it was shaping up to be a showdown. From the start, we watched the lead group pull ahead and we didn't go after them, rather just settled into our own pace. Lucky led most of lap one and I stayed right on his wheel, until a mistake on the first techy descent allowed me to get by. I kept ahead of him for the rest of the race. My gap on him diminished on every climb as he reeled me back in, only for me to regain the distance on the descents. It's a funny thing. When you're leading, you want to go fast enough to keep your opponent behind you, but not so fast that you lose control. When you're chasing, you want to go faster than, but not so fast that you make mistakes and lose the ground you worked so hard for.

I was able to hold him off as well as four other guys to get 12th, my best Cat 1 finish. I am very pleased with how well I rode and how I didn't bonk. There was the necessary power right til the end to power up climbs and to showboat for the photographers. It's always a good time before, during, and after the race, seeing all my good friends as we cheer each other on and share our experiences. The best part was on lap 2 when my coach, Ken, was standing amidst the numerous switchbacks on the climb up Animal Chute near the end of the lap. I heard him cheering for me all the way up the hill as I was murdering bitches in the face. I don't even remember what he was saying, but it helped so much.

So there's one more H2H race left, the Leafblower at Ringwood on Oct. 3. It's another one of my favorite parks and it's another challenging race course. After this, my focus will be solely on cyclocross for the rest of the year. I'm kind of sad to hang up the xc bike for a while, but cross is ridiculously fun and it will be xc time again before I know it.

In a quick little side story, one of my friends and racing buddies, Ryan Heerschap, had me build him a super light racing wheelset and he debuted them at this race. He rode them to a 2nd place finish, 2nd in the NJ State Championships, and locked himself into 1st overall in the H2H series. It was so rewarding to play even a small role in an athlete's achievements. As an aspiring race mechanic, it's exactly this feeling that I hope to share with all of the racers who I will be assisting in my future.

Nice job, Ryan.

Gentlemen, start your engines!

Checking in... and checking out that cute girl with the cast!

Lap 1 and eating dust

"Don't hit the brakes, don't stop pedaling."

I love this picture. It was a quick downhill into a sweeping left and I hit this at full speed. I passed this guy like he was going backwards. He's looking over at me and I have a huge smile on my face.

This is the number of days out of the year that I kick ass.

I climbed a tree for a better view of the Elite Master Men's race and I tore my arm up on my return to Earth.

The 2010 'cross season is underway with the first race of the year in the books. Saturday was the Nittany Lion CX near Trexlertown, PA, home of the Valley Preferred Cycling Center and super awesome velodrome.

It wasn't a surprise that it was pretty hot on Saturday since it's still early September, but add to it the fact that we haven't had any significant rainfall in weeks and you have some pretty non-cyclocross-like conditions. The grass was burnt yellow, the dirt was a sandy light brown, and the ground as hard as concrete. The course had no real elevation and was lacking the usual, too steep to ride, run-up that is characteristic of a cyclocross circuit. The conditions made for an insanely fast, and dusty, race where there wasn't any real area where one could rest. Just an all out sprint.

I did well at a race like this last season at Hidden Valley, but was my engine as strong this year as it was last year? The name of the game was to not give my opponents any extra room. This meant pedal strokes. Any time I wasn't pedaling and my competition was, I was losing ground. We zig-zagged across a soccer field, which meant long straightaways linked by 180 degree turns. I had worked very hard to attack racers in the technical portions leading up to this, only to lose my lead on them on the soccer field on the first three laps. It is disheartening when you can't make your passes stick and you see the guy you just passed passing you back and you can't do a thing about it. On the last few laps, it was important not to let anyone catch me through this section, so I had a mantra going through my head to keep me going, "Don't hit the brakes, don't stop pedaling."

As the race progressed, my fitness didn't diminish and I was able to attack riders and hold them off while I set my sights on the next guy in front of me. From starting in last place (and I mean DEAD last) I was able to fight through about 1/3 of a field of about 100. Not too bad for my first B race. I'll try to get better starting positions later in the season and hopefully be able to stay up there. Already looking forward to the next 'cross race, but first there are a couple more XC races I want to do. Up next is the NJ State Championship and second to last H2H race at one of my favorite parks, Jungle Habitat.