Thursday, Feb 4th, 2010 by admin |
Filed under: on
I’m wordless, breathless, and blown away by the amazing humanness and heartfulness being bestowed upon me generously like a much starved for morning dew or a short rainfall in the midst of a lip-chapping earth-cracking desert.
In America, where I get quite a few of blank stares for my being straightforward (a quality much valued and appreciated where I am from), the majority of people are so clinging to the cliched expressions of politeness that it doesn’t even strike them that while they are emitting the sounds that they think make them look polite, they are being obnoxiously loud in how indifferent they actually are to actually being thankful or sorry or happy or sad or anything else.
It’s not what you say. Or, rather (as to not to appear like I am against politeness), not only what you say. It is [also] what you do.
I don’t know how I got all these friends around me that extend their hand in actually helping out in a way that they can.
Anyone who knows me well, know that I am extremely independent and I don’t count on anyone but myself. But ,men, does it feel so overwhelmingly great to feel the friends do something to support you in shitty times!
This goes to you (you know it very well who you are). I can promise to DO everything I can in return to show my gratitude to all of you and hopefully you will feel my hand supporting you when you are in need of it, just like I am feeling yours now.
I love you. THANK YOU.
N
Saturday, Jan 23rd, 2010 by admin |
Filed under: on
It’s anyone’s nightmare that no one is going to show up at your event. To all of you, to all my friends and newcomers, I owe the deepest gratitude for turning my nightmare into almost unreal unbelievable happening.
It does sound somewhat silly for someone who hasn’t been on the market that long to have an art auction, and it’s only because of you that it did happen. Just in case you were wondering, starting price/bid was based solely on the cost of framing and materials and the whole auction was driven towards having fun and offsetting the output costs.
I was also curious, knowing that the majority of guests are very competitive by nature, how the bidding develops for certain pieces. Richard Fries did not disappoint. Not only did his poster was the hottest bidding item (David Wilcox won that one, as if there was ever any doubt; well, and for those who did have any, it should’ve been wiped out once he got a moment’s capture of himself with Adam Myerson), Richard also honored the show and Deb (his fab wife) came along!
Igleheart himself appeared just in time to see his black and white photograph (homage to Jacques Tati, framebuilder’s favorite actor) go to Chip Baker, another active bidder and supporter.
Surprisingly, the Asian Cup painting did not ignite a competition between its two subjects, instead it attracted attention of a cyclocross outsider, and -ta-dam!!! - a woman!!! She placed the first bid but had to leave shortly after not knowing that Jeff Bramhall will outbid her and take home the two Asian stars of NE cyclocross. What a catch!
The shiny and muddy post-race legs of Powers did not sparkle much interest and the furry Danish muscles were neglected as well. With Leah’s blinding pink tights (the photograph went to Jennifer O’Donnell) the only conclusion is not groundbreaking at all: female legs are just more attractive, period.
I am overwhelmed with the support that Wheelworks, Cambridge Bicycle Racing Team and the family have provided and bowing to all the people who came all the way to Belmont in the middle of winter.
I only wish I had anticipated such a great turnout to be prepared better with the food and drinks. I PROMISE next time there will be more of everything!!!
Thank you all very very much for making the PPP party an enjoyable gathering. I hope you all had fun and refreshed your cyclocross memories enough to follow the Worlds!
Cheers to all of you and good luck to everyone competing and working the cx in Tabor!!
Yours,
N
Wednesday, Jan 6th, 2010 by admin |
Filed under: Black and White
I never claimed that I am a consistent blogger. In fact, when I brought this blog-baby into the jungle of information on www, I stated that I rarely feel the need for whatever it is on mind to leave its temple and clutter the junkyard the informational space seems to have become.
However. There are exceptions.
In my book of wisdom, the ability to create is one of the greatest gifts a human being inherently possesses, and to pursue it grants us some meaningful purpose. With this posh introduction I give you a show, a party, an auction, fun time and opportunity - at Wheelworks in Belmont, Thursday, January 21, from 6pm to 10pm.
Come join your friends, make new ones, enjoy the art of photography, painting, printing and drawing, and if you are a cyclist, get pumped up for the training months, re-live your battles and share the war stories - all just a week before the Cyclocross Worlds!
If you are not a cyclist, we would love to see you at the show just as well! Besides the fact that such a concentration of bike-minded people is plain entertaining by itself, you might find yourself becoming a member of a new community, that can’t stop, won’t stop!
AUCTION FUN
There will be an auction of a few art pieces, all unique, all originals with no copies or reproductions to follow. The auction will be conducted in a “silent” mode (a note next to the piece will have brief description, the start price which is just materials/printing/framing cost and space for your bids) with a brief “live” closing. You are welcome to pay for and/or pick up the art works later in the week, so no need to bring extra money or worry about a car.
Lastly, while I leave a chance for the moody New England weather gods to bestow Miami beach weather upon us in the middle of January, I am going to count on the worst scenario: freezing, windy, snowy.
Therefore, to lure you all the way into Belmont, Pedal Power Photography and Wheelworks will offer plenty of free beer, Vitamin water, finger food from Sofra Bakery and more.
Thursday, Sep 17th, 2009 by admin |
Filed under: on
On my way back from Burlington, as I stood up to pedal up a false flat on Lowell Street hauling my trusty bike trailer packed tight with photo gear, my eyes naturally stared at the metallic gray stripe of road that looked like someone was pulling it behind from under me.
Like on a slow conveyor belt it delivered this…
and my heart broke.
Two things that came up to my mind (well, besides “oh, poor puppy…”[I have an unbreakable habit to refer to a lot of cute little furry creatures as "puppies" even though they are not necessarily representing dogs per se]).
First, ever seen that movie - eXistenZ (by Cronenberg, with Jude Law)? Remember that part that Jude’s character finds himself inside that game in front of a conveyor belt in that weird plant that breeds sleazy bald creatures for bio-weaponry and food too? That’s one thing.
The second thought I had was connected to another little-somewhat-furry creature, the corpse of which I had successfully got rid of, along with the trap it was still attached to.
Now, the thought is this: how is it that my heart breaks when I see a roadkill like this, mouthing “oh, you poor puppy….” and at the same time it takes me good 10 minutes to fight off the disgust and get that trap-killed homie mouse (sorry, no pictures). No “poor puppie” feelings there. Both rodents. One is larger and has more fur. This subject is in fact approached in a far more detailed and artful way shortly after the opening scene in “Inglorious Basterds”. If you don’t understand what I am referring to here, go see the movie. It’s a tasty one, but you need to be able to listen, catch, reference and connect.
Feeling like a criminal investigation photographer, I put away my camera and crawled back onto my bike. I admit to the ridiculousness of the guilt claws scratching my soul at the time, but I couldn’t help thinking about not burying the “poor puppy”. I think this is something that most of us carry over from childhood: who didn’t have that experience of a solemn ritual of a dead pet funeral?
Having dealt with the guilt, my mind wandered off to the routes of “how could this have happened”. A car, most likely. Could it be a cyclist? I doubt it - the force would have to be tremendous; besides, a cyclist, generally, is more aware of such happenstances as street crossing animals and the braking/stopping distance is shorter for a bicycle, especially if we are comparing the speed a bicycle will go with to that of a car outside of city.
However, it occurred to me that the infamous cycling-butt fighter, had she happened to notice a roadkill of that kind she would have probably blamed it on cyclists.
Or, better yet, cyclists’ butts. Cars? Drivers? You must be kidding me! Those are the true victims of animals crossing the street. And, of course, cyclists’ butts.
Oh wait, what am I talking about. I am afraid that maybe, according to the bike-butt-fighter, I am not even supposed to be biking on the road there. You know why? A roadkill happened to be right in my way, so I had to go around it, being - oh.my.god. - in the middle of the lane for the whole 2-3 seconds. An eternity, I know!! Now the car behind would get to their red light they were so anxious to get to 3 seconds later. Disaster.
Has that lady ever noticed the state of the roads, especially by the curbside? Does she really - no,really? - think that I am going to ride over a pile of broken glass or a pot hole or “earthquake” cracks in the pavement instead of going around it?
Ah - that’s not what the post is about. Sorry for digression.
On a serious note, though, I do understand that sometimes an accident of that sort is unavoidable and drivers may feel just as terrible about the “poor puppy” as I do when I stumble upon one. It’s just… I can’t stop my heart from breaking when I see that.
Be careful. Please?
Although the first cyclocross race in New England was some weeks ago, Palmer felt like the first true cyclocross madness. Non-stop rain (which, mind you, stopped when the racing was over), chilly, mud-mud-mud, more mud and roots and wet grass and up-and-down sharp S-turns.
There was even one thing I have never encountered in a cylcocross race beofre. We all know about run-ups. Right? Right. Now, how about a run-down? huh?
Yes, you absolutely had to run down a steep-ish descent because (well, first of all because you just made it up a steep run-up which curves 180 at the top and becomes a said descent) because if you slided down staying on your bike, you would only face the necessity to make a sharp turn which instantly led you into a short run-up (which some 3 races before mine was possible to ride, but you know, with many tires and rain…)
And the PUDDLE. The mightly puddle that was the cause of drop-outs, mechanicals, crashes, missing remounts, giggles, wars, and so much more. I honestly tried to RUN it every time, but a midget like me could only walk it with weird limping-like jumps that were intended to convince the hecklers (who by the way were offering 5 bucks and beer to anyone who would attempt to ride the puddle) that I indeed tried to run.
Anyway, that was my short summary of the race. A more full report on this can be found at RMM’s blog
Here are some shots I took at the war-place.
All of them are up for grabs (with proper credit if you’re reposting them elsewhere, of course), but if you feel grateful enough, you can TIP THE PHOTO GAL.
Like this:
Wednesday, Aug 12th, 2009 by admin |
Filed under: on | Tags: garden, russia, siberia, village
My previous post ended with this “live simply-be happy” slogan attributed much to a rural family on the outskirts of a Siberian city who all seemed to be pretty content with their life despite what here may be well considered as poor living conditions.
This time we are in Barnaul, which is about 3 hours away from Novosibirsk by express-train. Barnaul is a short hike to Gorno-Altaysk area which is uniformly considered one of the best outdoors passtime spots in Russia: hiking, rafting, canoeing, fishing. The mountain air is crisp and clean, the water is ice-cold and tasty, the vegetation is juicy bright green, and the ticks are plentiful in May. Sorry for that last one, they always sneak in and make things very uncomfortable.
Barnaul seemed to me a much smaller and much gloomier than Novosibirsk and Tyumen. I did not take many photographs there because, even though I was with two other people most of the time, I was always under impression that it may be wise not to show my camera. I may have just imagined most of the risk, but it’s like the fear of spiders or centipedes - no rationale, just the instinctive fear.
The village we went to was about a 40-minute ride by car from Barnaul. The old dark wood house of our hosts was shyly hiding behind a few new brick two-three story cottages: a building company would buy old houses, demolish them and erect the fancy mansions in the hopes of selling them to the wealthy urban folks. Again, for those who are unfamiliar with the Russian culture, the importance of “dacha” (a summertime residency in the country that flourished probably the most during the Soviet era) is comparable with that of tea-drinking - again, see the previous entry on Novosibirsk. However, the economy did the back triple flip and the white brick monsters stay silent staring at the wooden survivors with their empty unglassed eyesockets.
 
The house is very old and tiny: a family of five share two rooms and a kitchen. The bigger room is where the mother sleeps, and her two daughters. The walls have a few big cracks in them and the color has long faded. It actually provides for an unbelievable background, but, putting my photographic excitements aside, I can see the girls’ frustration over the look of the interior.
Besides the work around the house (mainly fulfilled by grandma) and the garden, there is not much to do in the village. The older girl has to attend the mandatory two-week gardening at the school garden. Students - who are few - are required to work at the school garden five days a week, from 10 to 2pm, having 10-minute breaks every hour. While we were there we witnessed a couple of girls taking too long of a self-imposed break in the middle of the day, and were dismissed by their supervisor (a biology teacher) with the 0 hour record for the day. They will have to come work in the garden for one more day after the required two weeks are over.
As explained by one of the supervisors, a considerable part of school lunch comes from the garden. Since the kids work in the garden, they get their lunch for free. He argued, though, that on weekends there is noone to look after the plants, so a lot of produce doesn’t survive (such hydration-sensitive vegetables as cucumbers, for example).
Although the teenagers have a totally different vision of their passtime on a summer day, the idea doesn’t seem to be irrational…
Next stop - Saratov (heading back to the west!)
Tuesday, Aug 11th, 2009 by admin |
Filed under: on | Tags: cyclocross, remount, russia, siberia, simple, village
Novosibirsk is another famous Siberian city, and it was the second one on our route. Now, this is going to sound ridiculous (and it is), but while it is the same distance from Tyumen (see “The Bloom of Tyumen” post) as Tyumen is from Moscow, there is no direct air connection between Tyumen and Novosibirsk. Well, sure you can get onto an airplane and fly to Moscow (in the opposite direction of what you need) and from there hop on a flight to Novosibirsk.
So we took a train instead. Railroad system in Russia is waaaaay more developed than in the US, so actually the schedules for longer transfers are normally built around night, so that you don’t have to spend a day staring in the window while your ass is getting numb from sitting and your nose - from the smoke (although smokers are required to smoke “outside” of the compartments area, the “biohazard” territory is still in the same car, even though separated by a door). The only exclusions are 24-hr and longer trips. Then you’re kinda screwed. But hey, that’s part of the adventure, right?
 
Whatever. Doesn’t matter. We were condemned to the train for only 14 hours which nicely fell between night and lunch time. We slept most of the time. When I woke up, it was downpouring and the rest of the trainy trip looked more like a Flying Dutchman journey. I am not aware of the passtime details of the crew members on the Flying Dutchman, but all I did was read, snack, nap, stare at all this water outside, then repeat.
When we arrived to Novosibirsk main railroad station, it was - you guessed it - raining. Balancing between falling into deep puddles and despair, I pushed the depressing mood away by crazily waving my arms in the air in the best traditions of Cambridge Central Square bums. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the particulars of privately operated urban transportation in Russia, this is how you hail a car. FYI, any driver (in any car) can become your one-time cabby, that is if you agree on the price which is negotiated in brief 5 seconds after the car has reacted to your gestures.
Clearly, my bodily movements did the trick and we soon found ourselves … stuck in the traffic that the driver himself described as “the worst I have ever seen”. Don’t they all say it though?
There were indeed small lakes we were driving through, and I have to admit that it is probably somewhat hazardous to be a corteous driver underwater. I was mostly impressed by so many varieties of horn tunes in one place at one time!
Traffic lights, signs, were of no use at all. Cars, buses and trucks were all trying to just sneak in going in different directions at once. One word: salmon.
Novosibirsk is a big city. The main street has 3-4 lanes in one direction, so it’s total of 6 lanes! It’s pretty clean, cleaner than Moscow. There is a subway, too.
We visited a small town on the outskirts of Novosibirsk, called Ob’ (by the name of the river). Although on paper it has a status of a “town”, Ob’s feel is more of a village. At least the part the we visited. Wooden one or two story houses, some brick, often very old, fenced more for property signage than for protection. No pavement, roads are hard-packed dirt, soil, balding patches of grass, gravel. Broken cars abandoned by a fence are a typical sight in villages and small towns. For the lack of a better announcement place, same fences or light poles are used. Here goes your craigslist.
While it comes as no surprise that people in rural areas cycle more, on a general scale, I am not quite sure I have noticed a cyclocross-style dismount in a village before. Or, maybe, I wasn’t really seeing it before, and iit’s the cyclocross knowledge that’s opening my eyes now. The questions is - does SHE know???
The family whose house we invaded is stunningly large, compared to the space they all share. They own a two-story house, but the second floor is under renovation, so the two brothers share one room, their sister sleeps in one bed with mom, and the dad was kicked out closer to the sauna (which is an extension of the house). Oh, and don’t forget the grandma! And two cats.
Water piping has never been finished in the house, so the actual toilet is a wooden cabin in the back of the garden, that you have to empty periodically. Likewise, while there is water coming out of the fosset, it drips into a bucket underneath the sink.
Typically an old type village house like that would have a decent basement storage space which can be best described as pantry. It used to be largerly grandmas responsibility to make preserves, canning, some went as creative as making their own liquors ranging from homemade vodka (called “samogon”) to desert wines to berry wines to bitters.
In this family the women cook. We watch traditional “pirozhki” (fried dow pies stuffed with various fillings: boiled eggs and scallions, cabbage, potato and mushroom) being made, while their garden potato is getting ready on the stove. All the greens and vegetables come from the garden matronaged by grandma.
We are invited to the table. It is amazing how much food is served and we are wondering if they have thrown this together in our honor. No, turns out this is a pretty damn normal lunch for them. When you get into thinking about it though, here comes the explanation: everyone in the family does jobs that are very physical, and when they are not working, there is plenty of work to do around the house and in the garden; so the food is just what appetite requests.
There was a funny moment. My American friends, being full from all the wonderful food at the dinner, politely declined an offer of tea. They thought to play it wise, because as they quickly learned on this trip, in Russian culture “would you like some tea?” will always translate into “here’s your tea, and here are the biscuits, and here are the leftovers of the cake my friend made the other day, and here are some candies, etc,etc”.
Little did they know, though, that Russians do not give up faced by a refusal. They’ll have more options to offer. Oh, don’t want tea? Coffee then? No coffee? Juice maybe? No juice? A little desert wine? It can continue forever until, exhausted, you say “yes” to something and just then watch the satisfactorily happy smirk on your host’s face while they are serving you that means “I knew you wanted something, and lucky you I have it!!”
There is something about this family, about how they live, that makes me very peaceful and very happy. They don’t have much on the material side. They have to work harder than a work horse to make the living, but you step into their house and you feel the happiness.
They live very simply and that’s when you realize that you do not need a lot, in fact, you don’t need most of what the majority of peole have or desire to own. Seriously, you gonna love me more if I wear a trendy shirt? Or are you really not going to be friends with me anymore if I don’t ever have a car? Or live in a fancy place?
Those people, by living simply, have so much above and beyond of what your typical “metropolitan” ambitious career builders do. I know that I am being a little bit extreme here, and it’s not everyone, but, you know, I’d much rather prefer a world inhabited by the people who live simply.
Next stop - Barnaul!
Monday, Jun 15th, 2009 by admin |
Filed under: on
Our next stop was Tyumen, the oldest city in Siberia. On the map it’s highlighted under #2 (#1 is Moscow; #3 is Novosibirsk: #4 is Barnaul and #5 is my hometown - Saratov), so it is quite clear it’s practically in the middle of Russia. Tyumen weather is typical for Siberia which means long and cold winters and really short wet summers. We lucked out and it rained only once or twice during our 4-day stay there.
We flew in early Tyumen morning (5:20am), but with the time difference (+8 hrs from NYC to Moscow and then +2 more from Moscow to Tyumen) it felt like evening.
In a cab, as the driver and I started talking - by the way, in Russia it’s almost an unspoken rule that you must talk to the driver, otherwise you are being rude; even if you have nothing to say, you gotta mention at least a few common topics: weather, flight, city, etc - I found out
that the curbs in the streets are washed regularly with soapy water and brushes;
that winter days can be so cold that even he, the driver, couldn’t stand more than 20 minutes outside, even though he had “warmed up” (with vodka, obviously) at home and was “properly equipped” (with vodka, doubtlessly) to watch the ice statues show;
that the city imposed a 10pm curfew for all the teenagers;
and that we should definitely go see the Lovers Bridge in Tyumen.
 
Our plan was to check in, nap till breakfast, then get breakfast and get out in the streets.
Well, the check-in was…funny for the lack of a better word. The administrator kept telling us she only has two rooms available (how lucky! exactly the amount of rooms we need!), and those are - obviously - not the cheapest ones. Meanwhile, we spotted a handful of keys resting in the slots behind her. She argued that all of them are reserved. Whatever, we paid and went upstairs to our rooms.
The first thing I see, before I even open my room - two security cameras pointing at my door! W.T.F.??!! Figuring I may as well be just another paranoid crazy wako chica, I go to my companions’ room and describe the situation to them. We finally decide that it’s probably better to try to get another room for me. I walk downstairs by myself demanding explanation from the hotel lady regarding the cameras. She fails to give me a clear answer, just mumbling that it should be “none of your worry”, it is not for me (right, then why is it pointing at MY door?). When I continue to insist that I cannot possibly feel safe with such a unique service above my door, I get a key to another room! Oh what a surprise!! So there WERE indeed other rooms?
At this point I am exhausted and tired and all I want is a room without any cameras watching my door where I can crash for an hour, thank you very much. I go to my new room, drop the luggage and turn my power off till breakfast.
Now, breakfast deserves a separate dedication here. Normally I wouldn’t even try to bore anybody with the description of a hotel breakfdast. That is - a typical hotel breakfast. What we were getting at that hotel consisted of [the same, continuously aging, day by day]: tomatoes, cheese (which day by day you could see getting yellower and harder in certain spots), hard-boiled eggs (which was fine the first day and even the following day it was still ok to eat, but 3rd and 4th - the same? from the same week ago????), instant coffee, packet tea, mayo salad and omelet with wiener (which by color and texture reminded of a blend of paper with lard).
Just one last touch: should I mention that even though this breakfast was free (oh yeah, by the way, walk-ins were absolutely welcome and you could get all of the above for just 150 rubles ($5)) we ran out as fast as we could to find a better place to eat breakfast at. In fact, since breakfast places are not all that popular in Russia and in Tyumen in particular, we were buying breakfast stuff in grocery stores and drinking coffee in coffee shops. It wasn’t cheap (1369, Peet’s, Starbucks - name any, they are all 1,5-2 times cheaper. And you don’t have to pay for milk or cream there, too), but it was definitely good.
now, to the bikes! My disappointment carried over from Moscow vanished in Tyumen. Maybe it is the size of the city (Tyumen is much smaller), or the pace of life (more laid back; frankly speaking I think it’s only places like Hong-Kong, Beijing or New York (Detroit? never been, but heard a lot) that can compete with Moscow), but I encountered a lot of people on bicycles. Primarily mountain bikes or cruisers, none on road.
  
We also stumbled on a rehearsal for the police parade. Tyumen police, on their own initiative (or rather their PR service initiative), decided to start changing the public opinion of how bad and corrupt the police is, to reconstruct the public image of the police. They open their doors to journalists and media to follow them on a daily basis to provide better feedback about their work. The parade was part of the show and we surely documented that. While snapping some of the photos, I yet again remembered that the police and the state, no matter how much we hate them, despise them or judge them, it consists of people, and, just like anywhere, there are good people and bad people. And there are young people who were teenagers a month ago.
 
Looking through the viewfinder I couldn’t resist capturing State and Church getting into talking, how typical!  Not even only one Church…
Lenin statue, tulips and military-like parade, those are the evergreen remnants of the Soviet regime which nowadays noone seems to attribute to the era. They are just there, like the Theater, like the Park, like the Apples and Lilacs.
  
 
 
Thursday, Jun 11th, 2009 by admin |
Filed under: on
My memory of Moscow faded: after all, I left it 3 years ago.
Ha.
I did not remember well. I really tried not to frown once I stepped on the dear ground of mother Moscow. It welcomed me with rain, anxious Russian tourists returning from their vacation trips with luggage bags scotch taped all over (to prevent any theft attempt during their flight) and the air full of exhaust and cigarette smoke.
My friends picked me up at the train station and we started driving to their place. For the entire driving time I saw only one person biking on the street. One. And it was some sort of a sloppy helmet-less fred who looked like he didn’t even quite realize where he was and what he was doing.
However, after I’ve seen a few cars do a Nascar style battle in the city in the middle of the day with some serious traffic, I realized why no one dares to bike there.
During the three years that I have not lived in this city, Moscow seems to have expanded even more, and more people moved to Moscow making the subway experience an especially dreadful one. To me it felt like zombies high on caffeine with the population density of five people per square meter.
Of course there are exceptions to the rules and you can still find a few sane people in Moscow, and sure enough my friends are among them. However, living among the zombies ain’t easy. Or maybe I just don’t like the big, highly congested cities.
 
Next stop - Tyumen!
Saturday, May 16th, 2009 by admin |
Filed under: Racing, on
Monday afternoon saw me in front of the computer edititing some photos, when infamous RMM called me to ask if I am going to Craig’s event. Puzzled and intrigued, I did.
 
It turned out to be a track racing seminar put together by everyone’s all time favorite bike man - Craig Roth. He gave the crowd (which, by the way, filled all the seats!) Tony Eberhardt - the man behind New England Velodrome and ran a very comprehensive presentation on track racing.
 
Cambridge Bicycle Team, represented that evening by Craig, Gary Bavolar, RMM and myself, offered transportation opportunities (from Cambridge to the Velodrome, Londonderry, NH) to those who would like to try it out.
Some of the people who wanted to learn what it takes to try it out, were so eager that even the mean mean end-of-working-day cars did not stop them:
 
It is really easy to start riding around the track and get into racing it, too. Really, all you need is your helmet and 25 bucks to get you started ($15 on entry fees, $5 release form and $5 to rent a certified track bike). You even don’t have to have clip-in shoes!!
To keep the interest burning, Craig raffled off a few prizes brought by Cambridge Bicycle and New England Velodrome, including books on racing, tshirts, hats, velodrome passes and discounts.
 
 
All in all, the Track Racing 101 had a great turnout, and it looked like New England Velodrome has aquired a few more racers and spectators, because what is a sport without its fans? huh?
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