Some things I saw in Lake Placid, NY
Posts tagged dylan nord.
Dylan Nord turns 25 today.
The best thing about Dylan is he lacks the capacity to be a bad person. Every single time you need him, or need him to step up he is there. There aren’t many of those people in the world and I am damn proud to call him a brother, friend, teammate and co-founder.
Things get sticky at 23%,
Dylan glassy eyed after an 87 mile ride with 6,800 feet of climbing this afternoon.
Shot on both the 5D Mark II w/ 50mm 1.2 and film.
A short film featuring riders Dylan Nord and Jayson Jacobs previewing some dirt at the Tour of the Battenkill. Also featuring the completely redesigned team issue Rapha Pro Team Bibs, the Focus Izalco, SRAM Force and Zipp
Today we previewed the Tour of the Battenkill (in the pouring rain).
To me, Coney Island marks the beginning of manufactured American
adventure. It opened as a true American innovation. On the outskirts
of Brooklyn, a place lay where thrills, danger, and excitement were
manufactured and sold like never before.
At the beginning, New Yorkers came en masse. They collected on the
shores of the beach, on the unsafe wooden rides, on the lines and
among the crowds. This first generation of thrill seekers were unique;
they were replacing a different sort of adventure, an adventure that
scarcely exists in our modern world. They themselves, or their
parents, your ancestors, had taken the greatest of American
adventures. Imagine the adventure of immigrating into this country
without knowledge or possession, connection or arrangement. There is
no ride for this sort of adventure, no tickets available.
Today in New York, we are fortunate to have the reminders of our
history surround us in the stone and steel of our buildings, and in
Coney Island it literally peals off the lattice. But as the memory of
the original American adventure fades, the manufactured replacement
metastasizes: larger, faster, brighter, and louder.
Now our adventure is found in shopping malls, theaters, resorts, and
living rooms. Adventure has become a product, bought and sold, on
sale. It’s safe, expiring soon, available in short time; also, the
popcorn is never free and you must be 56’ to ride.
Dream ——> Realized
The Westside Market, Cleveland, OH.
One hundred year old neoclassical brick is likely responsible for the West Side Market’s municipal look. Opening the doors, I expect stairs leading down to a subway platform, a bared ticketing booth, or a wooden bench darkened with use and covered with the carved expletives of disgruntled citizens, but instead there is another set of doors.
The space inside is massive, and the vaulted ceilings serve as a sort of tilt-shift lens, turning the crowds of shoppers milling around the booths into miniatures. Each booth offers a different discovery. First I bend down to get a closer look at the pig behind the butcher’s glass, before asking an old italian man for a pound of uncured bacon. The cheese is arranged in piles across the aisle, but I get side tracked by filled-to-order cannolis. I swim through half focused crowds to get a better look at the characters behind the counters and the strange stock they sell in every tiled corner. The West Side Market is not the best place to do a bit of quick grocery shopping. You won’t find the cereal you eat for breakfast here, or the ice cream you eat for dessert, but I came shopping for experience, and bought at every booth.
Words by Dylan Nord, Images by James Nord