MIssed Connections: A Tale of Brooklyn...

Ecuador Earrings - w4w

Date: 2010-06-29, 10:02PMThis is going out into the netherworld so I can let go of it. I can't get the thought out of my head that I should have gotten a name, made more convo, not ran away with my water. But how do you talk to someone who is with someone without them feeling protective? Honestly, I just want to know more people like the both of you. It's like I felt this crazy energy from you, so much so that I went upstairs and had what felt like an anxiety attack! Then I attracted a person to me who told me to send my overwhelming vibes to the sun. I felt like a chain of events happened the minute you appeared at the bar next to me, like you were meant to be there, and even weirder that you used to live very close to where I live now in a different state. It would be one thing if it was in NY. Of all the people in that club...how did I run into you? Maybe we were fated to be friends and I totally bungled that by getting shy and running away. This is totally gay I know. Wish I hadn't acted so weird.

• Location: City Saturday
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Original URL: http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/mis/1818278658.html 


(the underlining is my "poche" as they say in so called "intellectual circles"...as are parenthetical citations, apparently...)

sorry, that's a lame ass post... here, press command and click this...



and now look at this:

hey hey hey!

So check it out,

I feel real bad about the tattered and decrepit state with which I leave this blog, but alas, the weather is nice (read: sweltering) and the riding has been good of late, so too fucking bad... I raced in that harlem race with the far-too-long-title eight days ago and then a local race at prospect park at the crack of dawn yesterday, after which I rode down to Red Hook with some peeps (no, not the mallow-y kind) on the new track bike, then ran errands until the night time.

I promise to post photos of the new bike just as soon as my photographer comrade gets around to letting me crash his place of work, though I won't let that stop me from enumerating several things I've noticed about riding a true track bike in the city:

1. It's extremely dangerous not having brakes.
2. It's extremely uncomfortable geometry for rides lasting longer than an hour or so, and considering there's really no way to attach or mount anything to the frame, vital accouterments must be carried on the back.
3. Carrying shit on your back is annoying and hot.
4. My being hot and annoyed is extremely dangerous to other users of the road.

Of course this is not to say I don't thoroughly enjoy my new ride, it just so happens to now occupy the coveted "most impractical" position in my "stable". Then again, if for you practicality is gleaning compliments from passers-by and attention from "fixie girls" (you're welcome), then that machine is a fucking swiss army knife. 

Not to sound like a dick, but its aggravating to have random people stroll up to you and go, "hey man, nice bike" every thirty fucking seconds or have grungy hipsters fondle it while it's locked up somewhere. A buddy of mine rides a real beautiful black and red Bridgestone and has to deal with the same shit constantly. 

So I was at this dance-party thingy down in Red Hook Saturday (yeah, it's been a real Red Hook weekend) and I brought the bike in and leaned it in a conspicuous spot so I could keep an eye on it. This guy walks over, grabs the bars and spins the bike up onto the rear wheel like he's about to roll it into an elevator so naturally I fly across the loft and demand he put it down at once.

I'll never understand the need people feel to touch shiny or smooth things... It reminds me of the inane behavior of those antsy people who have to look down the tunnel for the train every ten seconds; it'll come when it comes, just chill out...

Furthermore, aside from being motor-powered, I fail to see how my (expensive, sexy, shiny, babe-scooping, etc...) ride differs from, say, a custom Harley or sports car. Is it that they're afraid of getting the shit kicked out of them by this guy:

Reuters

who is obviously in tip-top shape from all the ballantine-drinking and harley-riding he does; or getting publicly embarassed by this douche:

screen-capped from that Vin Diesel Movie

who masks his weak character in fineries...?

I don't get it. Especially when you consider people who ride bicycles are likely in far better cardiovascular and muscular shape that either of the above two stereotypes combined. If I had any sense, I would be far more hesitant to go fucking with shit belonging to these legs:

Am I right or am I right?

Anyways, since I rode around yesterday literally from sun-up to sun-down (and then some) I opted to take the 'ol iron horse in today.

I know I have to give myself days off the bike, but I rue my decision within fifteen minutes of being confined in a steel box with hundreds of sweaty and crabby new yorkers. It makes me daydream about peacefully lolling along in the park or the quaint residential streets of my beloved Brooklyn...

Last night I typed "cycling is fun" into the search bar of a popular video hosting website and found these rather interesting videos of what our cycling environment could be like! enjoy!

And then there's this one which neatly explains why the Netherlands has such wonderful cycling infrastructure:



Well, enjoy, and try to make the most of the rest of this muggy monday...

Race Report: Central Park 4/4

After the mediocre race Saturday, I was amped when I woke up at 3:45am Sunday morning. In a previous race report, I mentioned a certain breakaway I barely hung onto, and the fellow who initiated it contacted me after finding this blog. So after a barrage of e-mails, we resolved to work together in breaking from the field Sunday, giving me lots to ponder and prepare for leading up to the race.

I made my way over the williamsburg bridge (which, incidentally they've just today begun to resurface and re-stripe in a hopefully safer manner) into the eerily desolate streets of Manhattan, and took 1st ave pretty much all the way to the park. Funny thing about 1st on a Sunday at that hour is most people you see on the sidewalk are wasted and most of the cars you see are cops keeping them in check.

Kind of odd to be the only leaving home instead of struggling toward it...

I got to the start a little too early, I guess, because the organizers were just starting to place the cones out on the course when I made it to the park... I sat around eating apples and bananas waiting for them to finish setting up the check-in table...

I putzed around for a while, did a real fast warm-up lap, took a whiz, and ate another banana before it was starting to get crowded with racers.

We all lined up for the start, same as at Prospect Park, though this time behind the masters (35+). I guess the commissaire thought our fields were too small so he announced that we (the 5's) would be "racing with" the masters though scored separately. This of course elicited groans of irritation from the masters and clacking of kneecaps from the 5's.

I guess it would've possibly been more accurate for the commissaire to say "a few of the 5's will be racing with the masters, the rest of you are fucked."

At the whistle, the pace was almost 30mph. I'm not certain, but I think a LOT of the 5 field got dropped right then and there. I settled in behind my new acquaintance as we were still planning on trying our attack sometime around the second lap. we sat in the peloton and I was surprised at how much effort was required to stay in contact with these old farts - they were truckin!

I definitely didn't completely cast off any intention of attacking but by the end of the first lap, I knew it wouldn't stick; I was already feeling a little tired from the maniacal pace being set and there was no way we'd stay away with the peloton moving so fast.

On the hill at the second lap I followed my wheel up through the field a bit and saw the orange jersey of the Champion System guy from the day before driving the pace on the front again. No wonder we were going so fast. His m.o. is to ride away solo, but the masters weren't having any of that nonsense, keeping him reeled in the whole time.

At this point I began to notice that I couldn't see that many category 5 numbers (they give each category a different color, the masters are all different colors); I knew of the Champ-Sys guy, my Kissena friend, myself and I kept seeing one other guy, but that was about it. I immediately recognized why it was I was feeling so good about this race: I was riding with sane, skilled racers who hold their lines and stay out of trouble.

By the time the third lap came around I was simultaneously deep in concentration trying to place myself well for the final lap (oh yeah, I forgot to mention, we never attacked; I knew it was a pipe-dream from the moment the pace settled in) and also having the time of my life zipping around, not worrying so much that some noob was going to slide out in front of me.

We crossed the line and the pace jumped again, as we passed the reservoir I looked down at the speedometer and I was registering at 33.5mph on a flat (whoa). I tried to follow my wheel up through the field but he passed someone right before a turn and another rider compressed in front of me so I lost contact with my only ally.

I did a mid-field attack of sorts to try and move up into the leadout, where I was supposed to be. This was a mistake because immediately following that we entered the snaking downhill which doesn't last long enough to recuperate before the Harlem Hill. The Kissena guy moved up at the bottom of the hill and I followed as long as I could.

I felt my thighs pumping acid again (is that what VO2 max feels like?) but gritted my teeth and powered on as far and as fast as I could. About twenty meters from the crest of the hill I completely blew up.

There was nothing I could do... I had to sit, drop into the small chainring, bigger cogs, and keep the pedals spinning to keep my previous position (I climb fast, so I usually gain 10-15 places on these small hills). I think one of the masters could tell I suddenly started pedaling squares because as he passed, he patted me on the back and offered a quick word of encouragement.

I managed to stay in contact with the middle of the peloton and was heartened that I felt almost immediately recuperated in less than a few minutes. I again made my way toward the front and the masters kindly let me through since they still had a lap to go and we were lining up for the sprint.

Actually, lining up is a bit of a misnomer, a few guys at the front were in contention for a sprint finish but I certainly wasn't. On the shallow climb to the finish line I was sitting in around 20th place and tried to make up a few places using my only real talent on the bike: climbing. About halfway up I realized I wasn't passing anyone in my own field so I stopped hurting myself and held my position for the last 20 meters or so.

We rolled over the line and judging by the number of 5's I saw who pulled off to let the masters continue, I think I got eighth place, or near thereto.

None of our planning was put to use and neither of us won (not even the Champ-Sys dude!) but all in all it was a spectacular race. I think that before I started racing, this is what I imagined all races to be like, not the lolling, 15mph starts of the usual cat 5 races. Considering I held onto the front of a field that was going MUCH faster than I was used to, and that was above my skill level, I felt pretty good about my effort.

-

I've often noted that racing a bicycle is a lot like playing a car-racing video game (sorry, I'm of the "Gran Turismo generation"). Since Gran Turismo was, when I was growing up, the A-1 racing game, I tend to draw a lot of parallels between racing my bike and my virtual sports cars. One thing in particular is how the first time you play the game, it seems easy, though you definitely won't come in first... After getting the hang of things, you become better and better at "driving" and even with an unmodified car, you can school noobs on almost any track.

So naturally I wonder if my experience racing with the masters this Sunday will affect my performance this coming weekend. If we're not grouped with a lower category again, I wonder if I'll feel more able to play with the field, make effective moves, and possibly ride away on an attack...

Saturday I'll be in Newark for the Cherry Blossom Challenge, and Sunday I'll be back at Central Park...

Until next time

...paparazzi

Real fast, I thought I'd share a couple images from the races with y'all.

All of these photosets were found via cyclingreporter.com, which I recently found to be an awesome repository of NYC's local races. let the narcissism commence:

FBF 3/27 via Eddie Mazaev's Flickr

FBF 3/27 via Eddie Mazaev's Flickr

FBF 3/20 via Eddie Mazaev's Flickr

FBF 3/27 via Gina Green @ Organic Athlete

...a quick lesson in race tactics/ettiquete

As a fast follow-up to saturday's race report, I wanted to explore an interesting phenomena that I believe only happens in the 5's.

When recreationally riding or competitively racing, one quickly realizes the benefits of drafting behind others, letting them do the work for you. In time, you get more comfortable riding extremely (onlookers might use the term suicidally) close to others at high rates of speed, building trust amongst the group. There are a multitude of ways to draft, but categorically, they can be divided into two distinct types:

cooperative pacelining and uncooperative drafting (aka wheelsucking)

Study for a moment, if you will, the above diagram showing four of the more common formations. Note that in each, the arrows imply group effort; when the lead rider is tired or has pulled his fair share, he slides to the back, while a fresh rider "pulls through", all the while maintaining the pace.

Obviously this is a grossly idealized representation of cycling in formation as any number issues can and will disrupt the smoothness of the group. Professional teams ride in this way while on training rides; and though things certainly appear more disorganized in a professional-level race, that is simply due to the simple fact that its a race and jockeying for position, blocking, etc.. are obvious tactics to be employed. Nonetheless, talented racers still concede that without the combined efforts of different riders from different teams, the race will suffer.

Now in category 5, my current hovel, racing tactics are either unknown or disregarded by nearly everyone. Even those who, like myself, have familiarized themselves with good racing skills, don't make use of these rudimentary maneuvers.

This is exemplified at pretty much every cat 5 race in the following way:

1. There is a peloton (if it could be called such) and at the front of that group there certainly is a leadout train comprised of 5-10 of the stronger riders in the field. They will do the majority of the work for the entire race.

2. Everyone is worried about getting dropped so nobody risks hard efforts on the front trying to do things like chase breakaways or drive the pace higher.

3. Nearly everyone is gunning for first (who doesn't want to win?), and coupled with the above point, riders huddle en masse, trying to conserve as much energy as possible for the sprint.

4. The pace fluctuates dramatically. Since most are concerned about their ability to just hang on, when one rider who's been pulling for far longer than he really should have tires, nobody pulls through. His pace drops significantly, which in turn slows the whole field.

To this last point, Every time I've pulled on the front to help out of just to try and blow the field apart, those that hang onto my wheel simply stay there. Swerve to the left and the leadout swerves left, swerve right, they go right... At Floyd Bennett Field on the previous weekend, I had to physically turn around, look the next rider in the eye and yell, "PULL! I'M OFF!" only then did someone share in the responsibility of keeping the pace up.

I think that if I can establish a breakaway with some other riders this weekend, we'll likely get an opportunity to make use of some serious progressive pacelining. Then again, when you try to break from the field in the 5's, everyone sees their chances at first disappearing and they all suddenly find their legs, making successful breaks rare.

As an aside, my favorite formation to see or be a part of is what I call progressive pacelining. It's the same as the single paceline illustrated above, but the direction of the arrows is reversed so the last rider rides up and takes the front position from the now-second-in-line rider. This very fast formation is used when you sense the peloton breathing down your neck but you think you've still got a chance to stay away. good stuff.

Hopefully once in the 4's or on a team, I'll have more support from other riders and we can make lemonade of lemons.

that is all.