The Red Hook Crit is a notorious hard and dangerous unsanctioned bike race in the Red Hook area of Brooklyn New York. Very few women participate, but Spikes friend and general badass Jessie Zapo did. Here, she gives us the low down.

By Jessie Zapo

It’s Saturday night in Brooklyn in late March.  For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to sign myself up to try something new.  Here I am at the start line…just waiting. My heart is beating extra hard, so hard that I’m worried that it might be audible to the guy next to me.

Don’t look scared.  Don’t smile.  Act like you know what the fuck you’re doing. 

That’s what I’ve been thinking to myself for the past two hours. But here I am now, toeing the line at the start of the race.  A thousand or more spectators are watching. I don’t see them. I’m in the back of the pack trying hard to adjust my eyes.  The sun is now long gone and there are sporadic spotlights on the course making it difficult to see.  I turn to my right and there’s a bunch of guys.  Someone’s smoking a joint.  I turn to my left and there’s another bunch of guys. Someone squats down to take a piss next to me.  In front of me there’s about ninety-seven spandex-ed dudes. I can’t see any other girls because the other two (or maybe three?) are somewhere near the front.  Kacey Manderfield, who I have been soliciting advice from over email the past two months is in the front.  She won this race the first year, and now in the race’s fifth year she has pole position. (It’s noteworthy to mention she’s always in the top ten). I’m searching the faces of the men around me looking for some sign of fear, excitement, or maybe encouragement.  I see my friend K-tel and he gives me a pound.

Rewind to nine weeks before.  I’m running with some friends, the Orchard Street Runners, when I meet the infamous David Trimble. David is a stoic guy who is actually quite kind and humble.  In the cycling world, David is the founder of the Red Hook Crit, an annual unsanctioned track bike race that is held in the Red Hook neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York. When I told David that I was thinking about racing the Crit, he didn’t flinch.  Actually, he said that he would sign me up to make sure that I got a spot in the race.  David explained that it was difficult to find girls who were willing to race.  In all honesty I didn’t really know what I was signing up for at that moment, but I thought:

 If the founder of the race thinks I can do it then I can, right?

Soon after our first meeting, David put me in touch with Kacey.  It was around that point that I started to realize what I had gotten myself into.

Some history: By definition a criterium is a bicycle race of a specified number of laps on a closed course over public roads.  The original Red Hook course was “closed” meaning that a group of cyclists stood by to make sure no traffic was coming.  The harsh cobbled streets were notorious for taking people out of the race early on. Presently in it’s fifth year, and having also had success with a race course in Milan, The Red Hook Crit has drawn the attention of an international set of riders and some noteworthy sponsors.  The course, now in a more “sanctioned” area of Red Hook, is not open to ride until the few hours before the race.  There’s no way to practice the 180 degree turn or dangerous chicane until you actually show up on race day.  Despite it’s organization now it’s still quite dangerous, as I later witnessed some of the fastest and most competitive local cyclists crashing early on.

In the weeks leading up to the race, and as the details unfolded I knew I had a lot of work to do.  There were some major modifications to my riding that had to happen.  Sunday mornings became lap days in the park. My local bike shop got used to my almost daily bike modifications and inquiries.  I enlisted the help of a friend to practice pack riding and signaling at night.  At this time I had upped my running training and added some track workouts in.  Leg strength and pick-up got better.  I had to change my gear ratio several times to get it up to a competitive gear inch combo for track racing, riding a crazy ratio to work each day.  Then added bridge repeats.  I started feeling pretty good about myself.  Two weeks before the race, I saw David at a track meet in Williamsburg.

“You know you have to ride with no brakes, right?”  “Yes, David of course.”  “And you know you have to ride clip-less pedals, right?”  “Umm, yeah… of course no problem.”

In fact I had never ridden with clip-less pedals and also didn’t own them.  At that point it didn’t matter.  I was in over my head, I already accepted that fact a while ago and there was no turning back.  I wasn’t going to let David know the extent of how scared I was.  I ordered some pedals and made myself learn them on the commute to work.  I decided that when race day came I was as ready as I was going to be.

Flash forward back to the starting line that Saturday night.

Don’t crash.  Don’t get hurt.  Don’t embarrass yourself!

At the back of the pack, my mind is racing and thoughts of getting hurt become very real. I know that the rules of the crit require riders to leave the course once they have been lapped by the lead pack.  I also know that for amateur cyclists, the excitement and challenge is to see how many laps you can stay in the race before getting kicked off.  This is if you don’t crash first.

Don’t look scared.  Don’t smile.  Act like you know what the fuck you’re doing. 

In a moment, the pack is slowly moving as one.  Excitement turns to determination and quickly turns to burning muscles.  My race is short.  As I maneuver the course I watch as some other riders crash in front of me.  I hesitate.  A moment’s hesitation and the pack in front of me pulls away with lightning speed.  I ride as hard as I can, briefly.  Lungs and legs are really burning.  I don’t crash, and I’m also not the first cyclist pulled.  When I come off the course and watch the remaining cyclists racing for position, I see from the outside just how insane this race is.  Moments after me another girl comes flying off the course and is nearly hyperventilating.  I sit with her for a moment while she cries.  She seems clearly overwhelmed.  I leave her alone to give her some air.  In this moment I become aware of feeling extremely proud of myself.  I feel alive.  Then I think about how I will do it better next year.

To learn more about the Red Hook Crit, go to www.redhookcrit.com

Jess Zapo has been running and leading runners with NYC Bridgerunners since 2005.  She resides in Brooklyn and prefers to run and cycle for a streets-eye view of life in New York.  As a Creative Arts Therapist Jess works with at-risk youth and young adults with a focus on experiential learning, public art and social justice.

You can follow Jess on twitter @jessiezapo