This was to be my alley cat racing baptism by fire and my feet were frozen. I had been standing in the snow for hours with butterflies in my stomach and adrenalin slowly building pressure behind floodgates. Here I was waiting impatiently for the start of Monstertrack 8 the infamous bike messenger race held annually on the streets of NYC. This is the biggest, baddest, and scariest race of its kind in the world. I knew not what to expect, where to go, or how I was going to race my bike through a bustling city in the snow with no brakes.

The race course is the city. The obstacles are the life motions of the city. The route is the fastest one you know. The competition is fierce and motivated by the reward of instant glory. I knew I was fast on a bike but was I crazy enough. So here I was standing not alone but one hundred and fifty strong waiting for the race start without a clue exactly when it would come and what was about to happen.

Then without warning the start was called and the race exploded in a mad dash towards the piles of waiting fixed gear bikes. I reacted instantly rushing towards my machine. I remember the start as a blur, one second I'm sprinting, next instant I'm mounting my bike cyclocross style at full gait, next moment I'm barreling down the street towards a busy intersection flanked by bikes on all sides. I dove straight into traffic on Delancy followed by a quick suicidal left on 1st ave. Now I'm on a relatively clear street hammering hard up 1st. Surprisingly I'm near the front and quickly reel in the lead group. The pace is absurd, my heart wants to explode out of my chest but I'm at the front and the legs are strong. I move up further and take a turn leading the race around 20th. This lasts for a few blocks before give it up when I realize I'm towing the pack along at 30mph.

This group is comprised of the elite race contenders. I don't know too many names but I recognize Austin and Alfred right away. I'm determined to stay on their wheel but the reality of my inexperience is realized with the first red light near 50th. I slow slightly remembering the absence of brakes and my lack luster stopping skills. With this first hesitation the leaders pull away slightly flying through rows of cars ignoring any and all red lights. Still I reach the first checkpoint only seconds behind.
The race cross-town to checkpoint number two (100 Amsterdam at 64th) is slower in pace but more traffic intensive. I catch my breath slightly and settle in behind Stephan Pierce who would go on to finish eighth. We nicked Central Park, swooped through Columbus circle and quickly eliminated the next checkpoint. Next on the list (5th ave. at 31st) I follow Pierce closely to Broadway where the traffic congestion is insane. We dive in and out of cars, tourists, horses, and icy snow banks. The pace is so slow and I'm starting to lose my cool.

As we hit Times Square I commit the first of a long, long list of navigational errors. Now any respectable New Yorker knows Broadway veers east towards 5th Ave. So what do I do, I turn left on 45th with the idea that I'm heading straight to 5th. Of course my midtown jaunt is unnecessary and chunks of time are pissed away. I make the checkpoint and my next mission is Morton St. Again I lose my cool in traffic making a stupid right onto oncoming traffic on 12th St. That street is also gridlocked so I take to the icy sidewalk sending pedestrians scattering. Another left into heavy traffic and I'm on Seventh flying towards the West Village. Morton is eliminated which leads me to slippery Houston which leads me back to base for manifest number two.
Still in the top ten I'm told. I've lost time but I'm just starting to get warmed up. I swing back onto Delancy and make the only positive mistake of the race as somehow I pass 1st Ave and turn left a couple of streets late. This leads me straight to Mamma's on 3rd. With that checkpoint out of the way I have only three left before the final Brooklyn bound manifest. I hit it hard up 1st ave. blowing by rider after rider who have chosen to do the Mamma's checkpoint last. I catch Heidi near 61st and I'm relieved to be a full checkpoint ahead of her as she's riding super strong. 61st is again eliminated and its back across town.

Now I make the second crippling mistake of the race. In my mind I'm going to 38th and 9th next. I completely forget about the checkpoint at 48th and 6th. So I battle it over to eighth, make a quick left and barrel down 9th taking a second to glance at my manifest. Fuck, I'm on the wrong side of town I realize and my stomach drops. Do I hit 38th first then retreat ten blocks to 48th or should I cut my losses and zig zag across town to 48th I make the decision to head back as I become increasingly desperate with the horrible traffic conditions. No longer am I slowing down for red lights or pedestrians as my bike handling skills are quickly improving. Then I'm pushed into a snow bank by a town car causing a semi-crash, next I bounce off a lady pushing a stroller (sorry!). I'm furious by the time I reach the 48th street checkpoint but I keep it together as shoot a couple blocks the wrong way down 6th Ave before crossing town back over to eighth. Crosstown traffic is so dense by time I reach 8th and I know that the checkpoint is between that ave. and 9th so its time to take some risks. I make a left into the slow moving traffic on 8th. I'm flying towards traffic, middle lane and out of my mind. Luckily traffic is for the most part gridlocked so I'm making the decisions as I squeeze my way through a maze of mirrors. I make it 38th where I hook back up with Heidi briefly as we head back downtown.

Another navigational shortcoming is performed as I travel east as far as Lexington before turning towards base. In hind-site I should have braved Broadway as it veers east towards Union Square, which happens to be where Lexington empties anyways. At Union I ride through crowds of pissed off pedestrians and hit Broadway (see a pattern here). Next I'm going left on Bleecker and a quick right on Bowery. Back at base I receive the final manifest. There is one easy Manhattan checkpoint left and I manage to fuck that one up as I go the wrong way on Eldrige. Recovering quickly I swarm into Monstertrack, slide on the muddy floor amidst the screaming crowd. A quick stamp followed by a magic markering of 666 on my ass and I'm back on the road towards the Williamsburg Bridge. I'm informed that my position is still well within the top twenty.

Following Izumi's advice I take the car lane over the Williamsburg Bridge and crank up the pace. I quickly drop the rider who's followed me out of Trackstar. Two more shadowy figures on bikes grow larger as I push a mean pace over the bridge. The sun is lowering behind me and my left eye is clogged with vision blurring mud. I catch the two riders near the end of the bridge but they sneak past a red light that slows my pace.

This moment will go down as the one that completely ruins the race for me. Enough mistakes had already been made in Manhattan but I was still looking at a possible top fifteen finish with a few more spots within reach. But what happens is that I can't see very well and the riders ahead disappear for an instant and I have no idea where King Kog is. I've never been there before but I know its on Marcy and that is where my knowledge is topped out. So what do I do? I turn left on Marcy off the bridge. Of course that was the right way to go but I doubted my decision and turned around running seven blocks the wrong way. I change my mind for the third time, turn back around and cross the same seven blocks again before I catch site of a rider leaving King Kog. Now I'm completely frustrated but things only get worse as I ask for directions to the finish at East River Bar.

I follow the directions to within a few blocks of the finish but somehow miss the critical information that would allow me to find it. Again I go five or six blocks the wrong way. I'm desperately riding my bike in circles up and down the streets looking for the bar. I'm right in the middle of the Hasidic area of Brooklyn asking the Jewish pedestrians the location of a hipster hangout. I'm basically begging people to help me out when I take a look at my manifest and realize that the address for the bars is printed right there in fucking capitol letters. I make it to the bar but the finish is of little relief. Years and years of experience losing races is the only thing containing my anger. I want to throw my helmet into the east river but instead I quietly check in (36th) and sit down to have a beer with Izumi.

At any rate I'm hooked. Give me a year of living in NYC and I'll give you a completely different story at Monstertrack 9.