Drink Fresh

Haiku comes in many different forms.
It's not always count out the same.
Yes, when it's put in words.
but out in the world,
how do you select the moments,
and put them together, which images I remember, and which,
feelings, I nip and cut and define
the times.

....maybe that's it, understanding what brief things, big statements. in compact form.
the soul, color, simple definition.
thats what makes a good ride,
a great novel.
Stong worker.

Cheers! dlowe

Drink Fresh

Spring focus Harry
ride the train to opening
f' be young riding



good Spring training days for me,  come with a boisterous exuberance.  I don't need to be anything yet.  Ride smart, train a bit, fidget a few days not riding, with a cold,  and get out today, for a long slow mountain bike ride.
after about 2 and 1/2 hours I thought up, maybe hit home, make a sandwich, grab a soda.  Then get out, do more.   Like I did as a kid.

alas, I road straight through.  Belmont, and down the drives, and cut into Wissahickon,  it was pretty full,
and I made like a good ambassador, and slowed, stopped for the walkers, dogs, runners, and gave them respectful right of way. 

of course I came across friends.  and made no mistake or rush, and chatted as much as not to be intrusive and or just going on too much about something.

and the Daft plans, an early August Cx clinic at the Mann?   Grass track Wednesday nights of August following.   (got a sweet little spot in mind).

Tonight I feel tough, and fuck it allishness running strong in my blood.  umm to bottle it up, and sip on it in the fall, that'd be nice. 

Cheers all!  Get some.


rise and Shine

Early in the season
I hopped on the mountain bike.  It's been long enough, into training to know, how I'm shaping up.
To get out and flex in the mirror.   Trot a bit.
I sat up hill to the shadows, with the wind to my back.
on the stoop  of the Valley Green Inn.
Still fresh, and wanting to ride more.

Hitting up the gym, time riding indoors, or outdoors at cold temperatures.
I miss the simple fact of lining up in the grid, starting, being placed.

There should be a thought of beauty.  A view.  from a window, a road,
that holds special.
A sound, smell, that lingers, distinct, as a name.

A memory of a course, so well designed, that, the inside of the tape, that little,
9 foot wide path, is well thought out beauty.
It flows, it makes me battle, or feel like I'm getting away, drop the dudes behind me.
and It may have,
that those 3 feet become 10, 10 yards,  then 20 seconds, dropping them.
A pedal stroke, lunge at the line, half a wheel ahead.

I've labored tonight for words, a number of hours,  just sitting,
It's not like the sap just comes out of a tree, plug in a spigot, turn the handle and fill the bucket.
I'll continue to work hard, maybe the mundane days are the best.
The bell will ring, I'll stand, the stool will be pulled out.

Cheers Monday.



      Photo: Christopher Sikich -lifted from Impose Magazine

"It has always been my belief that unless we leave the world better than we found it and more beautiful, our individual lives will have been failures.
So try to become an inspiration for those who come after.  With art comes goodness and beauty, that, I know.  Emotion it is a strong desire to possess.  It is from the freedom of our thoughts that beauty springs.  Truth is love in thought. Beauty is love and expression. Goodness is love in action."
-John Kane  (August 19, 1860 – August 10, 1934) Skilled laborer, painter, Pittsburgh. 
autobiography - Sky Hooks

My inspirations come from everywhere.  I'll remember the river, early in the morning, before racing, the sun raising, quiet, a contrast to the short intense effort I'll put in racing.

I follow wreckless Eric's blog,  Ericland
it's guided me along when I've strayed, and helped me dress better.
His wife was playing a dive, dump of a bar, a bar if any I'd call home.
Dawson's pub.  It's close to home, and I had beers with Anthony and Stan and then walked over.
Meech gave a wave, he was already standing  up front.

It was one of the better shows of my life and I have seen thousands.
A true show, like the quitars where aortas. and the music pumped out,
the blood I need.

I plan to keep writing this blog, despite, how blog sound like bog.

My focus, like many, queer thoughts, outlandish, I want to be a National Champ.
that is what I'll write about this year.

I learned a while ago, from Steve Tilford, I am far short of what a man of my age can accomplish.

Amy Rigby will always be important to me.  For playing such a great show so well in that little Manayunk bar.   I'll keep it in the bag of tricks.  When my fingers are numb.
and the ground covered with the heaviest mud to try to pedal through.
I'll remember, that night.

Cheers!  onward to good training.  I always try to do the hardest intervals with a smile,
not to show my cards.

love ya!  dlowe.