Long nights and exposure.


Went on a Hunt of my own and picked up the October issue of @pelotonmagazine. My dude has a way with words and we’re pretty proud of him 😸

Sunday Reading

The Deux North Jersey, now for sale.

Judge a place by its donuts. This is Philadelphia. 

150 miles on the new Tarmac outside of NYC. I’m totally in love with this bike. 

At the National Gallery of Art with Claire.

New York from atop the Empire State Building

Specialized commissioned Mark DiNucci, one of their original frame builders, to design and build an anniversary edition of the steel Allez. The idea was to put 40 years of experience into each of the 74 limited edition frames to create something that’s as pretty as it is well-engineered.

I love when brands create limited edition products aimed at celebrating heritageinnovation, or charity. And what’s cooler is this month,Specialized will be auctioning all of the 74 bikes on eBay’s Giving Works to benefit World Bicycle Relief!

I’d love to give this bike a spin. My first road bike was a steel Trek 460, and I used it while I was a messenger in NYC, then to get around the Catskills where I went to college. It allowed me to fall in love with the sport, and it was probably the hardest bike for me to sell.

French Riviera

French Riviera

Claire outside the Ace Hotel. 

A selfie series to depict my experience climbing Mt. Ventoux last week!

(the after was taken about 1KM from the summit, somewhere near the Tom Simpson memorial.)

A few days riding around Provence.

How did that focus get stolen?

I leaned it up against the front window of a deli in the Lower East Side and ran in. I went to the back of the store, grabbed something, and by the time I was back at the register, someone had jumped off their bike, and traded it for mine. The whole thing took less than a minute. Then I spent the next four hours at the police station as they fingerprinted the bike that was left behind.

I’ve always been a pretty trusting person, so this stuff really surprises me. It really sucks losing something that you fell in love with over thousands of miles and hundreds of hours. There’s a sort of intimacy that is built with a bike over that amount of time, strengthened through all that suffering and joy you had riding it. Like how I would wake up groggy on a Saturday and watch it waiting for me beside my bed. I’d always be excited to get out of the bed and hear my shoe clip in as I got rolling.

A break from the usual, 20 miles till Rockaway Taco.