“Funny thing this bike racing stuff,” I was thinking to myself as I was heading to the GWB in the comfort of The Greatest Of All Cars The Honda Element (TGOACTHE) to meet with the other members of Organic for our weekend ride. Now Herr Schmalz (Cement King of Iowa) has publicly lambasted me for driving to the bridge, but doing so enables me to ride up and down 9W with the rest of the team as opposed to only part of the ride as I make my way in from the wilds of Bergen County. Regardless, I was ruminating on the merits of this sport. A sport that convinces relatively well-adjusted, productive (not counting Shen) members of society to wake up early on frozen mornings, spend obscene amounts of money on bikes and components and then race quickly in circles at the crack of down all the while risking life and limb. How dare we ever mock ice fishermen, bowlers or knitters for their passion. We’re in our very own universe of ridiculousness. Regardless, I love this stuff…

The thermometer was tickling 23 degrees and the sun was just peeking over the city as I was suiting up (I worship at the Altar of Craft) with gloves, booties, and skull cap. Various riders were passing me on their way up 9W. Eventually four of us (with Miss Peta, the tough one of that relationship, for a little while) took off northbound on 9W. Now I’m used to riding in the cold, but this was extra special cold ordered straight from Thief River Falls, Minnesota. The air seemed to reach down into your lungs and grab hold of your insides, the burn in each inhale was obvious and the cold/swimmer’s cough chest tickle came on rather quickly. After about 20 minutes all the painful places numbed up and the cold ceased to be that much of a factor. Sensing our temporary comfort Mother Nature sent in the headwinds to remind us that she always bats last.

The ride up to Bunbury’s (Spoon south) was uneventful with a steady pace being set. (Yeah, yeah, I know – some nerve daring to write about a piddling little ride that didn’t even make it past Piermont, but who do you think I am? Accardi? deal with it). Several miles south of the Stateline sign I took off on a solo to test out the legs and I was able to stay away. More of a testament to my teammates’ lack of desire to chase me down than to my awesome power.

Like Aaron mentioned in his far superior piece of writing(speaking of that, what are you still doing here?) there is a certain mental satisfaction to getting up early in the cold and getting your work in before the rest of the world comes to. Plus for those of us with families it enables us to serve the both the bike and the home equally (or at least close). Goodness knows that race season will be here soon enough and scheduling will be an issue. Note – Battenkill Roubaix registration opens on Wednesday and could someone, anyone please have Spring Bear not be on Mother’s Day? If I race that day my kind, wonderful and completely understanding of all this bike racing silliness wife may apply the second half of the word to me.

Heading south on 9W I spied many large team groups out for rides. Many more than I saw last year at this time and, based on other writing pieces and posts that I’ve seen, it’s going to be a highly competitive racing season in and around NYC. Good stuff.

Side note – I would have written this piece yesterday but I was too busy spilling an entire cup of coffee on my Macbook. Grade A, Prime Stupid – not as bad as leaving your Zipp Wheel at a race, but pretty much up there with the best of them. Live and learn, right. Like the kids need braces, c’mon now! Also I’ve been reading about viral marketing lately so while I was waiting for my new computer to be carried out I switched the home pages on all the iphones in the store to velocitynation.com. C’mon Schmalz – you can’t buy advertising like that. Make the check out to cash….

The training has been going well. I try to get in what I can while I get to juggle chainsaws at both work and home, but starting Friday I should have a nice ten day window to ride as much as I want. Hopefully the weather will stay dry and, maybe, just maybe, I won’t get to ride on January 1st at The Ride That Doesn’t Exist. My winter padding (I call it Nature’s Weight Vest) should begin to leave soon enough when I stop mainlining Holiday Cookies and start listening to Captain Jack Baranski and his eating advice.

Banana anyone?

Have a good week everyone.

Brian