The arrival of Noho used to signify the peak of a New York City cyclocross racer’s season. A vibrant two days of New England Cyclocross before the tailing off of Rainey Park, NBX, and Nationals. This year though, with the cancellation of both Rainey and NBX, for most people, this is it. Yes, there’s Ice Weasels (shoutout, Ice Weasels) and yes there’s still Nats, but for most of the TBD roster, The Verge Northampton International Cyclocross festival (™) was the closing ceremony of the first full season of racing in three years. And what a closing ceremony it was. Here to describe it are TBD racers, Yosef, Diz and Ben with photos from Scott Rettino as well as guest photographers, Megan Trinh, and Tiff Liu.

Yosef

Northampton, MA was the location for both the beginning and end of a special season racing CX for me. It’s hard not to conflate the actual race with my feelings of the season overall. The race reports for the two days are likely uninteresting — anxiety followed by pedaling, followed by the ups and downs of a cross race — but as a season retrospective, NoHo was perfect.

I approached this year with the desire to overcome my fear of common cross features. To ride more and run less. To pedal hard and come away tired. Most of all to have fun and keep growing. Historically, off cambers, steep drops and slippery corners loom large in my mind and the advice to "just send it" has not resonated with me. Through practice and exposure, starting with cross camp and continuing through the season's races, I've become more comfortable on the course.

With that lens let’s examine the two days at NoHo:

• I rode the sand. I admit it was easier sand than some other courses but the lack of control in sand has always made me feel uncomfortable so I’ll take a win where I can. Comparing races year over year, I rode more sand!

• I pedaled hard and put down power where I could. I’ve struggled with putting out power as my skills don’t feel matched with my fitness and I’m hesitant to go too fast. I don’t think my skills have yet caught up but they’ve certainly improved. I’ve gotten more comfortable going as hard as I can and then hitting the breaks where I need to. This might not ultimately be the most efficient way to get through a course but my lap times have shown that it’s certainly faster at this point.

• I rode the off cambers and stayed on my bike. It is fascinating to me that the features I couldn’t ride last year, I rode this year with just a bit of hesitation.

• I powered up the run-ups as hard as I could and rode nearly all of them every time.

• I rode down the descents even if it might not have been pretty or super quick. I stayed on my bike and upright.

Most of all, I finished the races with my face hurting from smiling too much. All of these features are ones I have struggled with or feared in the past. I can’t say I approached them all brimming with confidence, but I can say I approached them with curiosity outweighing the fear. And turns out, in actual fact, I can ride more than I thought I could. My therapist would be proud.

Cross may appear to be less of a team sport than road and more a solitary adventure but I’d argue that is not the case. There is a community and camaraderie to cross unmatched in the road scene. The far away races lead to long car rides and Airbnbs shared with friends and teammates. The racing schedule throughout the day leads to folks hanging around together for a good chunk of time. There is something about being cheered on by your friends, as well as being able to then cheer for them, that elevates the race to a community endeavor. I’m very fortunate to be surrounded by teammates, friends and frenemies who challenge and support me, whether it's a jacket right at the end of a cold race, some key tips right before the whistle, or a well-timed heckle. I started the year wishing to get better at riding a cross course and with the help of my friends around me, I think I did just that.

Ben

I started day 2 back in 65th position, right next to Scott, one row from the back. So far back, in fact, that by the time we went through the hole shot, the head of the race was almost through the next two corners. Clearly, I wasn’t there to win. What I was there to do was stay upright, move through as many people as possible and, most importantly, chase down Scott.

I got off to an okay start and from there set about trying to get through as many people as I could while the field was still somewhat compact. Over the course of the next couple of laps I managed to keep things consistent and move up. At one point, I came up to Scott and stayed on his wheel before passing him on one of the straights. We rounded the corner and into the big run/ride up that is one of the features of day 2 and I promptly completely messed it up, forcing myself (and the chasing Scott) off our bikes.

As the race progressed, I kept moving through people. I couldn’t believe how well things were going. So far, my season had been hampered by a quad niggle and persistent mechanicals so to have things going so well felt… suspicious. More broadly though, cross for me has always been an exercise in damage limitation. Bike handling is not my strong suit so ‘how little can I decimate my own chances in the cornery bits?’ is usually the standard I set myself. So, now, to not only be surviving the technical sections, but enjoying them with my tyres seemingly glued to the grass— I took that as a huge personal win.

Coming out of a boggy corner in the final tricky bit, my tyre lost the rut and had to dab my foot, a junior passed me and offered some words of encouragement. I tried to chase but he was gone. I finished the last few corners and narrowly staved off a child in the sprint for P20. Coming across the finish line, I joined up with Scott and together we found Diz who was waiting near the pit. She said something that, to me, sounded like Charlie Brown’s parents but she was smiling and had good energy so I assume it was encouraging.

It might not seem like much much, but I’m immensely proud of this result. Cross, particularly New England cross, has a way of teaching you to readjust your standards and find joy in the process of improving–– you think you can’t, but then you can. Last year, I did Noho as a freshly minted cat 3 and found it terrifying. I felt so out of my depth, I wiped out twice on the drop on day 2. I left feeling a little discoured and wondering how I could ever do any of this stuff. This year, I did all of the features without any stress. That’s the thing that’s fantastic about cross, there’s always more to learn. You might think you’re at the limit of what you’re capable of picking up, but you’re really not. You get to test yourself year after year on the same course and see how your skills grow— like the rings of a tree. I’ll definitely be back for next year and I’m excited to see what new stuff I’ll have learned.

Diane (or the aforementioned Diz): NoHo CX 2022 From Outside The TapE

In an unexpected late season twist, I became the latest member of TBD to get benched due to injury. A bummer, after multiple laps in preride on Friday reminded me that not only do I love this course, but it is my white whale; a race I should excel at where I have been plagued by silly things like slipping a pedal at the start. Alas, an otherwise uneventful slip in pre-ride on Saturday morning ended my season when I landed on…something? Something that left a pebble-sized hole in my knee, and two EMTs shaking their head and scolding me not to race. Also actually it hurt quite a bit. I’ll spare the squeamish among you further details. Struck down by a pebble! An unceremonious end to my rather lackluster season, but luckily not something that keeps me off a bike for long. So behold, a vibe report.

Did you know cross races are fun to just spectate!?!? I write these forecasts that say they are but what do I know? The last time I just spectated a cross race was the snowy, muddy slosh fest of 2017 Rainey Park (followed by the snowy, muddy slosh fest of Supercross 2018), which was also the first time I had ever laid my eyes on the sport of cyclocross. I was still wide-eyed and mumbling, “I will never, ever do this.” Here I was in 2022, now a True Fan of the Sport, at one of my favorite races, in one of my favorite places, and I didn’t have a care in the world! I didn’t have to pre-ride! I didn’t have to worry about pre-race nutrition! I didn’t have to check the time! I didn’t have to set up the feedback trainer! I didn’t have to pack my bag perfectly to ensure maximum ease of access to particular items!

I drank beers! At a cross race! Then I ate some sausages and frites. A true Belgian experience! I hung out at the barriers with other people who also weren’t racing bikes for a long time just shouting and heckling my friends and teammates. I got to see my friends go from pain to glee, back to pain, and shout positions and gaps to them (helpful!). I ran bikes to the pit for my friends (also helpful!). I handed out my store of mini cokes like a post race sugar fairy (still helping! helping is fun!). I watched my friends’ children rip around the lil Belgians course and then enthusiastically take cookies from a beaming Jeremy Powers (adorable! both the children and JPow!). I got to be there for all of it. Turns out spectator adrenaline is just as real as race adrenaline because I paid for my enthusiasm in an inability to bend my injured knee by the time we got back to the AirBnB. (I was ok like 2 days later!)

I can now confidently say the spectator cross vibes are good. Invite your friends and family to cross races, they will have a great time. 10/10. No notes.