A New Bean

JK of Revoution Wheel Works gave me some of his fresh roasted coffee beans yesterday. I love coffee. Look for his Revolution Roasted Coffee Beans soon, or pester him with some emails to get yourself some. Its a good strong smooth coffee.

CHEERS! dlowe


The Thanksgiving break

Thanksgiving and cross come together at the perfect time! It's that time of the season where everyone is thinking about the end, that last push towards the off season. We're all tired, motivation might be starting to leave some of us. Teammates who don't race cross are starting to talk next year strategy, "shut up, I just want to sleep in on saturday after a long forgetful friday night." But there's hope! Thanksgiving provides the perfect platform to do the two things cyclists love to do, eat and sleep. Just look at the day. Most of us will be getting up early and meeting friends for some sort of ride which we kick their asses because even though we think life sucks we're still in really awesome shape. Then after the ride we go to someone's house and eat our faces off. The best part is it is totally acceptable to fall asleep because of our tryptophan high. So live up this holiday to it's fullest potential. Mooch off your family and let them do all the work so you can rest and finish out the season on a high note! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!


I am what I drink

Chub legs, I had them. They are not good legs for racing. They go right from your hip bones to your toe nails. This weekend I discovered you are what you drink. The best post race recovery beer is PBR light. Simple can, same flavor, lighter taste. Good for getting out of you chamy, and getting your shoes off. Back into your street clothes, and throw a few in you cool cross team jacket and head out to watch the other races. I call PBR lights "racers". If your going to drink while you race, watch out for the officials, you don't want to get DQ'ed, and grab a PBR for your drink of choice. As far as pre-race night drink, by all means always avoid the Golden Monkey. If you do race the next day, take the tires off and just ride on the rims. Well, this past weekend, after the nice drive out to the Hamptons I grabbed myself an Old Chub for my pre-race carbobeer loading. Big Mistake. It really hit the spot. Every muscle fiber in my legs must of had a hangover the next day. Well my head throbbed some and I had to do the 3 cups of coffee and 3 aspirins thing for breakfast. I didn't feel so bad after my dry toast. I was back to myself by race time. I thought. Well, the official blew the whistle and we all pee-weed play housed it and were off to the races. Another good start, but, as much as I tried, little gears, mashing, standing, whatever, no pop, shit... CHUB LEGS. Now I know why the racers in France stay away from the ladies before a race. Listen, and listen good, stick to PBR, Sapporo and noodles, a nice local fresh brew pub beer and flat bread, but by all means Avoid the chub. Unless of course its the night before a holiday ride.


Big Dork


Got out riding in the light snow squalls. I love riding. I went to Belmont and tried to forget about dealing with the Biggest Dork, and a bunch of internal, frustrating, make no sense anger. I saw a big rock, and I thought, that looks like a nice rock. I tried to ride some wheelies. I did some sprints. I still had the Dork on my mind. hmmmm. I going to put a curse on the Dork, something mild, like a bad case of diarrhea. Here's how I'm going to make it work. I got a sugar cube, put a dot of nutella on it, poured a shot of slivovitz, swallowed the cube, hit the shot. The slivovitz attacks the sugar cube, the spirit is let loose and is free-ed with a belch and off on its way to the Dork. also I Emailed the Diarrhea Bear to Dork. cheers to my friends, oh what the hell, here's a shot for you all. dlowe



George and the big tooth.

Its the time of year, we are well into cross, and the luster is gone. This weeks USGP in Trenton was a fulcrum. It rained hard, and there was lots of mud, so it meant running. Plodding along, pushing, pedaling so slow, only a few seconds of speed on the bike. Something happened to me. It made me love cross more. Maybe I just felt lucky to be on my bike so soon, seeing that it had been only two weeks since breaking two ribs and puncturing a lung. Maybe it was the mundane, simplistic, dumb way of suffering. At some point during my second day of racing I noticed the footsteps of the rider ahead of me pulling away. Two feet, five, ten, moving away. I had already drifted back some in my placing, I was comfortable in my suffering, but something happened. I guess that's why I love cross. I stared at those feet, I picked up my pace, I caught that rider and battled to the end. I passed him and one more in the finale mud bog, both slid out in the last corner, one to the right and one to the left, with a small 2" gap down the center, and I rode that thin line. Onto the cement and across the line for 11th place. Its absurd, but again I feel the yearning to race. On to the Hamptons I go! The absurdity of it all.


Fall Wind


Todays selection of music carries like the temperature of cool fall wind. Dense and Moody, full of hidden noise, trees bending, guitars and a nice, some how ungentle, voice.


Ines Rosale's Sweet Olive Oil tortas

Some things about riding a bike are so obvious, that sometimes you miss 'em. Drink very good coffee. I am lucky enough to have a La Colombe just across the river from me. I go for the Corsica. Dark and mellow, rich, but by no means bitter or sour. Eat NUTELLA on everything. and finally, one that's more of a special treat. Rosale's sweet olive oil tortas. I had my first tortas a few years ago during a trip to Spain. I was hooked after my first bite. I stocked up at the local Spanish market and brought as many as I could back with me. Hording them for special mornings, to have with coffee.

After going through all of them, I hopped on the computer and found a place LA TIENDA I could order them from, and read about their interesting history. There are some shops that sell them in the Philly area, so keep your eyes open for them.
Mmmm. I slather the nutella on my torta, pour a cup of Joe, and enjoy. I look out my front window, its gray, damp and chilly, and frickin' I AM READY TO RIDE! cheers, dlowe


Of Montreal

This album plays like the Saturday mornings I remember as a Kid. Waking up, eating a big bowl of coco-puffs while watching cartoons.

Then disappearing outside all day, having dirt clod fights, riding 3 wheeled wagons over jumps, and catching things on fire. Its theatrical, and sort of disco-ish, and rocks like CopRock did.


Slip, ouch!

Well just got home from a night in the Hospital. What happened? , you ask. Did you trip carrying your large mug of beer? Maybe to much Headbanging to that dumb stoner rock you listen to? No, no. I fell on my bike. Not off my bike, but on to it. On my second lap of the Fairhill race, going over the cement wall, my shoes slipped on the mud covered cement. My feet went out from underneath me and my bike tried to catch me, seeing it does not have arms it didn't do the best job, and I plowed my ribs into the nose of the saddle. UMPH! Knocked the air out of me, but like all good amateur racers with nothing at stake, I hopped back on the bike and finished the race. Still a real fun race. Went out to a fun Halloween party as Gandhi, tried to MTB Sunday morning, did some yard work in the afternoon, and by Monday morning I figured out that maybe something was wrong. Went to the Hospital, two broken ribs and a real small hole in the lung. Spent the night for observations. A few mild painkillers and I'm ready to race. Shit, not quite. maybe next weekend with a note from my bike saying I won't crash. Oh well see you, in 4-5 weeks.
The shop sent out two tough guys to keep an eye on me, and make sure that I stay off of my bike.Cheers, dlowe.