I grew up a bit on my own, wild, to figure out my own means.
not the best way to conjure up confidence,
but strangely enough to hybrid morph myself into what I am.

the first time I felt like  I fit in was with Punk rock,
It felt good, to be myself, and be part of some sorta amoeba substances of
a group where you made up the rules for yourself, and fit in cause I believed I belonged.
This long ago time, was way before mass instant communication,  I'm an old dude bald bloke.
you'd have to write a letter
or dial a phone,
pick up a fanzine,
or trust the gruff clerk at the record store or see a flyer stapled to a telly-pole, and risk if I'd dole out 2-5$ a very limited valuable expenditure  to see a band.  I jone'sd to see good new bands.

somewhere sometime someone said we, all,  drank from the same river
that what was going down in Columbus ohio, was down in a basement of a church in Iowa
rocking it. or a remote cradle-nook of some town of, constants spelled no vowels, in Wales.

That pure thread, which I defined for myself, by what I learn from those I respect.
was bad ass,
totally freedom, and joy,  I felt a  responsibility to it.

that Fjord
spirit, I enjoy
is racing Cross
Today I got to help a bit with a clinic,
learned a bit, listened a lot, and hopefully,
stoked some new souls.

and don't take for granted
the split second that the scream of fear, turns to a laugh of joy
bombing all most outta control down a hill.

Drink deep and often!


more ice '18!

       photo: Jules Benson
       photo: Mike Festa
                                   photo: Anne Rock
        photo: Jules Benson

I put Anne's card up on our mantel, next to a photo I took of the Belmont tree many winters ago, and the little cowbell I don't remember what race I picked it up at.
Long live the spirit!

it is time to train, clean, focus, the fall will soon be here,
And a big hug to  everyone, everything I get outta cycling, cyclocross, and riding in philly.


a Sterling Pig

Sitting on some step, to some old building, leaving a big sweaty ass print,  I pointed, "see that old guy, with, the stars and stripes, on his kit"
with some fellow cyclist friends,
He was in my race.
and that, seemed more than enough for me.
not how I did, or how I corned the 2nd corner.

I chatted it up with Curtis Southern, chacthing up, I took it all in as he told me how it went down
at road nationals, and crit nationals, and how it went  for him this year.
and He does plan to go for it CX nationals, the 60+ age group,  the man's fassst.
I've raced him a bunch, mostly getting my ass kicked.

there has to be a Kinship,
to our beloved sport
What I need, from it,
I need to make grow.
There are lifer cx racers,
and Cat's that just want to win a prize, and be done with it.
and a ebb
a tide, sometimes driven by excitement, inclusion, popularity,
I can't stop racing,
and riding
and anyway, I just like to listen and talk racing with peeps
I like riding
with friends, and strangers, chatting it up, and always being surprised about something
how they got into cycling,
or that they had a pal that raced in the tour

I made my way to the "beer garden"  a nice, low-down, bit of plastic fence, to signify,
who's in to drink and who can't,
and sat at a round wood table, maybe pulled up from the storage room of the old building
with my vanished ass print on it's step.
a while by myself,
then with a couple of friends,
a townie that when he could, grab my ear and tell my something of grand importance of himself.
I watched the race go by,
and a friend do a good warm up for racing.
I had a second beer, two slices of pizza,
a nap when I got home,
and dreams of how'd if I played it a just bit different,
I'd of won that day.

with that I'd say, the Media Hometown Cycling Classic, is that.



Belmont racing night

You'd think, that I would have some pictures of the racing, trails, riders, from tonight's ride.
I don't, tonight racing at Belmont was excellent, a point to point race,
ending on the top of the Plateau,
at the visiting beer garden.
A wonderful night, with a good breeze, and a clear view of the city of Philadelphia.
A night like tonight, makes me glad to live close to the city, to live close to Belmont,
to be able, to get on the bike, ride over to the trails, and, ride.

The thing about racing for me now a days, I want to win, but it's more
I guess when I was 15, I thought about being 16 and getting my drivers license.
and when I was 17, it was being 18 and being able to by 'low" beer.

riding back from the Belmont,
on the sidewalk in the dark
much like a kid,
I thought about, how much I love so many people in my life,
how important they are,
smart, clever, cantankerous, pains in the ass.
and milestones,
What age am I at, and what do I put out there in front of me
I ride like a 12 year old not knowing any better, for the vigor, and wonder lust,
that I still have and can't help.
I am going to loose people, dear loves,
and one day I will be lost,
so what the fuck,
I'm not going to live counting down the days, or worry about it,
I going to live tomorrow to make memories,
for myself,  or for others when I gone,
I want to live big, nicely, and love it while I'm at it,

Funny thing about mountain biking, gets me going, the corners, close calls, rock, logs,
or the trickles of blood from not exactly making it right.
My training, has changed over the years, I've added to it a bit,
to regal in the ride, the people, work, to dig deeper,
to try and see the quick moment pass by in slow motion,
and tonight, that is what I have done.