all the wind has left my sails, feels fine, laying in the grass in the back yard.  After a nap already. 
I'm just looking at the sky, blanked out by the bike.

Long has not been in my training, and today was long.   I did not get out early, and somehow the heat, which I love, baked me.
Everthing went fine, just a battle of wills, every revolution of the cranks.
I accomplished my goal.

I layed in the backyard just sippin seltzer and grapefruit juice.

and I did find some new music, I think I listened to it while I was riding, but I really can't remember.
Its in there rattling around, in a good way.

I think one of my fingers on my left hand should of been a church key.



 at times, I find myself holding my camera away from my body, pointing at the subject.  I imagine whats in front of the lens, what I would see if I had my eye to the view finder.   You don't have to be a tech. savoy to click and post.   I still search for photography to be an art. To have a soul. 

Movies have stories, themes, emotions.  Paintings can't help but reflect the artist that paints them.  The color choices, blendings, size, subject.  but Photography just point and shoot.  Every moment can be captured, more easily than every.  No need to worry about the cost of film and processing.  No worries about time spent in the dark room, committed to a print.  To a flake of dust sitting on the film, blocking the light and foiling a print.  At least in Still Film photography a committment had to be made to the art.  Closer to giving it a soul.

and if I point and click at everything that makes my soul feel something,  the speckled morning light, a gray mistted day,  does that give it soul?  Nope. 

I've always leaned towards the documentary styled photographer, immersed in an envirorment, capturing a story, that story comes close, the closest to soul. 

I love still photography, and this quandry.   Maybe its in the presentaion, maybe it can only illiminate, a element in the telling of a story. 

at times I slack, and post B-grade photos, for the quanity, for filling the page.

it was a good suffern' day on the bike racing yesterday.   I'm looking forward to cross.  cheers, dlowe.



I twisted in the screws.  The cleats onto the new shoes.  Goodbye Sidi's.  On to anew, a better fit, a stiffer soul.  More secure, more comfortable.  I'll miss ya sidi's.  KB's - funny to wear something thats actually a person.  So I've velcroed up my feet with Keith Bontrager.  I ride with Keith Bontrager.  I don't foget.  Its all over my bike.    Nice shoes,  nice. 
Whats next, on to a Vapor.  Thats the old sweep.  Its beat.  That helmet has me in it.  Blood, sweat, oils, hairs.  Its beat, that shell.  adios amigo.

  cheers, dlowe.




Where now at the age of almost 48 do I find the energy and curiousness to keep kicking against the Pricks?
Cheers, Mr. dlowe.


In Bloom sburg.

Nothing feels better than feeling your legs feel good.  Sowing the oats abit.  and still finishing fine.
Got 9th on Sat.  in the Master's 45+ PA state rr.  Today in the Bloomsburg crit got 7th.   
Staying in a dumpy hotel always raises my spirits a bit.

Ta-da:  Bloomsburg weekend.

Jeff attending to the Church of David.
cheers, fellow suffers.  d.



I'm am Bane.
I don't know why.
and I don't care.

coffee, beer, a liberal upbringing. 

and it brings me joy.
its my nature.
my belmont.

Maybe somehow, when I memorized the
Jabberwocky, it nooked.
cheers. confused amongst us!


characterised by repetition

a recovery of sorts.   with the chill and the rain.  my cross bike up and running.  out I went to get my recovery. 
european style wood oven pizza. Franco's.  very good.
I've been into albums.  today it was the Fall's new one.  over and over it played as I pedal.  since its just recovery, and somehow always more motivated on the cross bike I shot what I could and made a video.

gray, damp, chilled its the way I like it.



Nationalistic impulses

I took some time this morning, and got the cross bike going.
Across the sea of pebbles.

up the Horse legs climb

up Boys to Men.
around to stony lane, to the cobbles, back thur the Wiss.
Today was a
 quiet ride.

I was told about the National, quite a few times, I'd listen a bit and set it aside.  I don't know why, now, the new album I just can't turn it off.

smoked at smoketown
Cheers, d.


Lofty brooklyn

just a day shooting in a NY loft.  a bit of atmosphere, grit from the street too.  I'm tired. 
I got a new camera a HTC droid incredible.  Phone.  
Its a nice phone, and most know that I'm not an apple fan.  I like data and bits, never could figure out I-tunes.

night.  david.


extremely hungary

I've come to enjoy headwinds.  Like history blowing into me.  I don't duck or tuck, I sit and spin.  I wobble a bit in the gusty side winds, the bike blinks sideways an instant.    On my short up hill, the one that draws me to a slow cadance, where I feel the effort corresponding to the moving forward.  The lurges.  I reach the tree and turn around,  downs brief, and back up again.
I too have music that i ride to, the wind called BelaBela Lakatos.

the wind on the up hill was on my back, and as an insult it blew leaves up the hill faster, ahead of me.  A crushing defeat.  But I died with a smile.  cheers, d.


15th hour

my alarm went off at 5:30.  I needed to race. Yerned. Longed.  Despite my enjoyable long day at work yesterday, my late bed time and the couple of last of the Riverhorse ales, I wanted to ride strong.

nothing was packed, I just went thur all the motions.   Arriving to a bitter, cold, wind and dapples of snow.  Hello Poconos.   Despite my shivers, I was happy.   I was happy with the strong wind,  I was happy to jump and intitiate attacks, to chase, to  watch the winner break get up the road, to dangle, and chase, to end up getting nipped at the line: 9th to 1lth place.  

I've been a man of few words lately.  At work, with friends. 

I made a Q&D video for you.   a homage to the early cyclocross works of c. totaro.  cheers, david.

L'pocono from David Lowe on Vimeo.



what a relief it is to leave the hotel bar.  as much as I love people, I really hate people.  This hotel like many others is a trap, based off an access road off a strip of stucco stores, off the free way.   The drive, was nice, with some nice napping.  Recovery from the hills reps, some deep discussions and beer from the day before. 
we pulled off the interstate just looking, hoping to find some down home, peeps.  We did, after a good lunch we made our way back to the small custared stand and stood in line with the ladies, kids and some old dirt.
                                         I took it in, the blue sky, the clouds, the frozen custard.
Tony snapped a nice photo of me.  You know I'm thinking with all the art/photo talent that I have access to I should start a real stylish line of expensive bike-ware.   The custard was good, and cheap.    cheers, d.



I've had the oddest year of training, but still at it and trying to make it work, just a lot of TCB:
I got two real nice shout outs on my ride this afternoon.     A couple of Diane Arbus looking kids.  One youngish 9yr old Las, just standing there "HI".    thanks, and  a little later a lad out by valley forge, arms by his side, feet together, "HI".
photo from work last Thursday, 
Thats Ljiljana my wife, a make-up artist, we work together sometimes.  The camera/dp guy was Paul Hazlett, my college roomate, who introduced me to Ljiljana.
I rode in a garage in cleveland Friday morning, stared out down the drive at some suburban houses.   I did my work.  thank you trainer.  Friday afternoon was a traditional Serbian memorial for the one year passing of the death of Ljiljana's mom.    Its a nice tradition,  food, flowers and prayers are giving at the grave.  And a wedding on Saturday, you drink and dance outside the church, before you go to the reception to eat, dance and do more drinking.    A sad,  happy weekend.  off to Lynch-burg, VA to work,  cheers, dl.