If you race bikes for long enough, you develop a natural race routine. This is especially true in New York City where early morning starts are the norm and the calendar is populated with a plethora of circuit races around the two mainstays of racing in the city: Central Park and Prospect Park. How much coffee you consume at 4:45AM, what time you arrive for number pickup, when and where you fit in your last pre-race bathroom break — it is all part of the rhythm of racing bikes in the Big Apple.

And then last year that rhythm stopped. Just like the rest of the world, bike racing came to a complete and total halt when COVID hit. Races, team rides, the cycling community - all on pause. In the year that followed my muscle memory around early morning races faded. In the best of times amateur bike racing is a niche sport, a hobbyist pursuit. But for most of 2020, amid great uncertainty, it was the furthest thing from front of mind.

In recent weeks that started to change. Vaccines and reopening started to bring clarity to what bike racing might look like in 2021. Events started popping up on the NYC calendar. First socially distanced ITT’s, then a few mountain bike races, and more recently road races. The registration trends? They’re mind-boggling. Selling out weeks or months in advance. As it turns out this niche sport with its 4am pre-race alarms and disgusting port-o-johns has been sorely missed.

Unfortunately my fitness is nowhere close to race ready. And frankly I’m inclined to ease back into the borderline insanity of close quarters road racing, where the smallest mistake can put you on the ground at thirty miles per hour. But even so, I recently realized that I miss that pre-race routine. I miss seeing the faces of those crazies that partake in this same strange little sport that manages to mean everything and nothing all at once.

So this past weekend I rolled up to Randall’s Island to catch the tail-end of what was New York City’s first road race in more than a year. In many ways not much had changed. The fans are still sparse, with racers whipping around this narrow course set between the East River and the Triborough Bridge mostly in silence, save for some animated announcing at the finish line. And as usual, at the end of the festivities there was a winner, a podium, and all of the stories to be retold about how the race played out. Sure there were masks, and new social norms. But the sights and sounds were the same, and with them it became official:

Bike racing is back in New York City.

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