Velopaint

• Back in June, on a drizzly and misting Saturday morning, a few of us huddled under a tree in Sherman Park. The CAT 4 racers were warming up as the xXx DJ played a steady stream of early 90s hip hop: Warren G, Digable Planets, Ice Cube, Tribe. A smiling woman with a baby strapped to her chest approached us to share the canopy and chat. She'd recently moved from New York, and her husband (a painter) was in the race -- his first in Chicago.

  Our boys were looking a bit soggy in their IBEX wool, but lined up without complaint. Jesse's rear Zipp had punctured minutes earlier, so he'd be running the unholy combination of my Campagnolo wheel and a Shimano Ultegra SL drivetrain. But no matter: this was yet another in a series of flat cornerless crits, so who needs gears? As the officials started the race, the drizzle turned into a downpour, and so went the next thirty minutes of racing.

  With a couple of laps to go, and the field looking like the back end of a painful spring classic (mud-stained lips, raccoon eyes, soiled jerseys), we heard the unmistakable sound of a high speed pileup, just south of the final corner. I dropped my bag and ran towards the sound, and immediately saw xXx rider David Moyer, a corner marshall for the race, sprinting in the opposite direction: not a good sign. As David rallied the medical team, a handful of spectators assisted the dozen or so riders strewn across the course. Most seemed to have fared well, although there would be a broken collar bone and some deep bruising after all the carnage was tallied.

  But the strangest sight of all was a small black Cannondale that had apparently sheared in half. The rider, Welshman Steve Dennis, was a little shaken, but apparently fine. His wife and child soon arrived, and I realized that this was the fellow we'd been chatting about only minutes earlier.

  Steve's love for and knowledge of the traditions and passion behind cyclesport shine through in his work. You should check it out.

  velopaint.com