In the Wash 5th and 5th

 The world is full of wonderful things. If you can find places where the corners have not been rounded off, if you can just sit on a stump in the woods, thinking up sentences that, with forever repeated strung out commas.  thoughts will go on and on

I've done two races, two 5ths.

I'm not sure what grammatically that works out in the math to be. 

Nothings beats racing cross, nothing

5th, I'm about 2 mins & 30 seconds off the podium.

both races.

I've won all my battles to be 5th.

and there is no place easy to beat somebody 

photo creds: Willow

I think the frenchies have some term for an orgasm,

"little deaths"

can't think of a better term to describe cross

La Petite Mort  

45 minutes of all out blissfulness, doubt, total love, greedy, performance anxiety, slap on the back, time to leave, stud

find your socks, and quietly sneak out the door

not matter how it ends

memories, a magnificent glory, a dreadful mechanical

You lined up, gave a heave hoe, and in the end, its, done

See you next week, stay tuned

Charm City it is. 

dlowe 

the anonymously dumped washing machine has been on its side 

along the trail in Belmont for awhile

It always gets a Sonic Youth nod, "hello" 

infinite osmosis

 WCCX II

I picked up my number to race, and it was an 8. That is an unusual number for me. First thought, was, infinity.  

then, blog post title, and then infinite osmosis

and that was it, no words followed, no easy stream.  just short burst of emotions, ideas, 

I pretty much thought I'd give up, and not write anything, too tough. 

How many times can I say that is has been a special season.  This year one of the most. 

How much I am surprised by people, THX!  Sturdy Girls for bringing back Nittany.  THX! Instigators for bring the enthusiasm.   THX! Endgrain for the most best cx moment in a long time. 

THX!  twozerodeltathree for capturing moments, that define memories.  https://www.instagram.com/twozerodeltathree/#  

THX! officials, my wife, my training mates, my team mates. Frodo.  the dj B Tart.  Bob "pit man" Joos.

I got out on the mountain bike today, and this small window of time, of the tilt of the earth, the suns angle, and blue cool shadow on top of the fallen leaves.  The little trails of Belmont.  

and I kept thinking infinite osmosis, and nothing came, I have nothing to write, pretty much given up.

and then a thought popped into my mind, a voice "give it a shot d lowe, you can do it!"

The trails, the leaves are so thick, i rode them by memory, history, following the flow, a damn fine day on the bike.

I had no idea what I would write when I sat down tonight, I guess I just need a bit of encouragement, the feeling that someone saw something in me, that potential, that maybe, I can do it. 

Thank you, Kevin

WCCX II 6th Master Men 60+.

dlowe

CRCX - be good

 My first day walking into junior high, through the front doors I pass the office. On the right, a glass wall to look into.  The office.  Hanging on a wall was a beautiful paddle. The word "good" was painted on it in olde English lettering, it had a waffle 9 holes. I suppose to reduce air flow on the swing, on the way, to smack righteousness into your ass. 

My days at school seemed like as long as you did wrong, respectfully, outside the boundaries, clandestine, nonchalant, you got away with it, no one looked too hard for it.  Maybe no one had the time to deal with it.

In public, wrong was made an example of, swiftly and sometimes unjustly, and it made its point.

Cooper River cx racecourse is a long narrow ground along a river, straights, turns, some steps, a little sandpit of fun.  It's not intimidating, and somehow, it seems, people let down their guard, dropping a bit, and blend together, socialize. 

I dropped my chain twice during the race, once in the beginning of the first lap and once, in a collision coming out of the sandpit, with a long hair single speeder, on the last lap.  Finishing 12th.  Definitely my own fault.

I had good battles, I got a homerun compliment, that "I guiled" the corners impressively (Podium!), from one of our groups members.

I road up to the longhaired single speeder, post race, a younger class rider, the dude who chopped corners, and I chopped his corner and dropped my chain on the last lap.  And smiled, "good racing" I said.  I think it is important, for your opponent to get a compliment for beating you. To show, let him get a look at a 61 year old, bit chubby, foe.  That despite his eye blinder desire to be ahead of me, that after the race we are all just crossers, staying out of the eyesight, over the fence behind the baseball field, sitting on milk crates sharing one can of beer lifted outta someones garage, warm, breaking the rules, together. 

Cheers, 

dlowe

Thx for the fine, in the grid photo, Gorka!

Be In - Crossasaurus

   Some say cross is dead, nil. 

Canceled.  Reeling and reeking of an ugly stench.  A disgusting beast, of swill, drooling, machoistic, the soul of the most honest to the bone internal self-abuse every invented.

I find it comes easy, and to me, quite normal.  And from the first pedal stroke, my heart rate is beating as hard and as fast as it can. I steer a bit wide into this corner and punch it quick to pass on this small patch of dirt. 

Cross is a conscription.  Cross looks easy and fast, as I watch others race.  Cross is a family, after your first race.  It is a secret handshake, a beer clandestinely poured into a Dunkin' Doughnuts cup.

Cross is hard nipples in the cold for everyone.

white lips, pruned toes

Truth be told, it is just another check box of a world of extracurricular actives to choose from.

I can't give it up. 

and right now I am dreaming of the times when I "was fast" fitter, thinner, naive.

Dreaming again of standing atop the top box.

but for now, 

and who knows, how forever long, I'll be chasing you

chasing you to the line. 

Cheers!

dlowe

Luft

There is a jawnty style, a swagger that is a non swagger. a free floating confidence, happy, loved, strong, alive.

       photo: Brian Biggs

A spirit that floats, made up of the tinyest specs of life that moves through the air, through us.

If a small breeze comes along it lifts the balloon and the short cord slips through and released from the hand of a child,  we float, for a bit lifting up, but not away,  looking down at, and decided to return to the child's hand.

A funny thing about luft, is you can't rule it, but that it has rules.   And luft only lives, with others around you.    Sorta like if you had an instagram account and posted the most outstanding selfies, but you had no followers. 

I love a world where you don't need rules, and people are good, and you don't think about why you are smiling.  

I have memories, of people and their luft, and saddly they are not around anymore.

That one moment, of saying cheers! and looking into the others eyes, and the beer tasted Tasty!

Paintings have luft,  songs, birds on the birdfeeder, their early morning chirping, coming in an open morning bedroom window.  Things like bikes in general don't have luft,  maybe their are a few, that have acquired that spirit, but it was the spirit of the ride, not the bike. 

You really can't count on what life is going to give or take from,  you definitley don't control when. 

but it does seem like, you can even be strangers with someone, and for some common reason, there is luft.  For that short event, maybe working in a break-away together, or just stopping to help fix a flat, and ending up with an interesting conversation. 

I've always applied, a spit polish, to my bike, not literally, ...but I know, and respect, how that machine has put me place, and made me meet peolple, and symbolicly whatever bike that I pull out of the shed, for whatever ride to where ever, I know I'm lucky, and try to shake my anger, not take to serious the workout, and definetly know that what ever happens, that the luft is important. 

Cheers!  

Thanks for coming out and, ride after ride, never let me down, Here is a big toast to you, Cheers!

Water Ice CX '21 "Harry Horray!"

david

Pin-up

I just want to write like old days, like a garden hose left on, and the water gushing out, on a hot day. a Niagra Falls on dopey 4 year olds, in underwear, and smiles. Flowing free, un-restricted, and cold. I've had so much other stuff on my mind. but today, I pinned up, clicked in, and raced. Not a smart race, like most of my crits, but a dreamy race, and pretty good legs, feeling like there is lots of potential. At a recent Thursday evening GV30 training crit, a rubber band snap I was right where I always was again, closing a gap, big gap, unfathonable doable gap, and behold a rider is with me, on my wheel, and I'm a bit spent, and my hearts apound about 200 beats a minute, and I ask, "can you pull?" as I look at him, and smell spent cap gun bullets. That smell....is good, and the break went away and we sat back in the field. I pin-up every race to win it. It's nice to fall asleep after a bit of nervous tossing, to the imagined story, of somehow a miraculos outcome, legs never giving up and going off the gile at the only correct second that the universe gives, and I cross the line, to stand atop the box, winner. I respect honesty so much more today. I want to make sure to feel the joy of every catastorphy racing could every bring, if I never win ever agin, that's ok. Just as long as I have the dreams, as I pin-up. Cheers! dlowe

2021

and Pffft, just like that something appears. I have a few bikes, a road, mountain, beer-beater, and cyclocross. I'm a cyclist more than anything eles. I love to ride. I'm happy on all of them. but, sometimes, more often than not on my cross bike, I see something, a downed telephone pole, that I have to hop. A narrow ribbon of dirt off the gravel road, and the bike I and pull to it, turn up the effort a bit and get at it!

My cx bike loves the spewn decaying streets and urban blight as much as it does, the paved path to Valley Forge. Around here there is a lot of stuff, if brave enough, I can ride. There is a short paved path, underpassing the road, an old trolley line, that I will hit every once in a while, and I'm scared to know what is in that tunnel, I'm ready to turn around and high tale it if needed. And I sprint down to it, and high speed right through it. I miss racing this year, I miss the really steep off camber mud hill decent in the Sly Fox race, that I barrel down and almost say a thank you out loud, that I'm still up right, when I arrive at the bottom, but quickly forget to do, cause I'm racing cross, and lots of other thoughts appear, quickly, chasing you or just needing to get going harder. Oh also, I've been racing long enough to hear people say "that's it, I'm down with racing", like someone can really hang it up. and I know in their mind, that when they say they don't miss the training, or racing, I know, I think they are just trying to convince themselves more than anyone else. Once a racer, you are never retired, never. and who knows the future, and what turns are up there. I got out for a nice easy ride today. It's damp, 35 degrees. On the cross bike, with just faint plans of where I was headed, and got a lot of pleasant pedaling in. I found a couple of new lines. The exploring always sorta keeps me warmer and happy. Ha! Well I really look forward to more gravel roads, hole in the fence short cuts, and burly rocks. Cheers friends, stay happy, and ride fast, when you can, like a whacked out kid, not knowing where they are going, but are loving getting there. dlowe

COOL

I don't mind riding in the humid summer heat of Philadelphia.  I just try to measure my effort.  As if nursing my old AMC Gremlin along, windows down, hot air smashing in.  Watch the temperature gauge, and hoping and trying to keep it out of the red.  That once it is too hot, you'r done, for a long bit. Happy Birthday today to Marcel Duchamp, and to his ability to make me wonder.  I imagined he had a love of cycling, and knew a bit about suffering out on a ride in the sun.  The table on our porch, on it I have waiting, to greet my return, from my summer ride, a cooler of ice cold seltzer, a towel, and by it a chair.  Just to sit.  And let the cooking finish.
I've seen a couple of new riders out there, hammering along, I mean at a real good clip, 225+ watts, railing at maybe 23mph, for a long bit, 10+'s miles, and on flat pedals, an old bike.  I can't wait till the end of their effort, to almost give my applause, as I pull up along aside them, and they all seem to turn to me and have a smile, I say "man you were a crushing it!" and we both roll on.

I wish that this could be memographed, or piratedly xeroxed at kinkos, after hours, cut up and pasted in a zine, then probably it'd have some kind of creedence, and mean something more, and positive enough.

I wish that every person in Montgomery Co. went to a bike shop and bought a bike.  and That when I went to George's on Monday nights to drink beers with him, Anthony, Erin, and whatever other guest invited to the outdoor back porch.  That Anthony and George's eyeballs would be bugged out, and I'd see dirt so deep down in the skin of their hands it can't be washed off.  That the little common touch spots, the top of a pant pocket, or center of the t-shirt where they'd wipe the stress and sweat off, is black of old bike oil.  From selling and fixing bikes busy all day Monday at the bike shop.

Just a bit more.
There is something to falling asleep with a fan on high, and it's hot, that I like.

Cheers friend, enjoy the summer heat.

dlowe

Philly is the Place

The cheap cologne, sweat tobacco and bad weed, made for a familiar philly aroma as I rode my bike through the East Park.

I remember early on when I moved to Philly from Ohio.  I went to see Sun Ra at the CEC center, a small spot in west philly.  Sun Ra was like a god from another planet rolling out to the piano.  It blew my mind.  That was philly for you.   This community center, a dopey white naive kid from ohio, seeing god.

That is how it is in philly.  It's a simple route, Belmont, The Boxer Trail, up on the road and around the ball fields, pass the box truck that'd haul the workout equipment that used to be parked on the corner weekends, before the virus.
The bench and iron plates laid out on the sidewalk.   There is no cheating a rep.
Dropping down to the Strawberry Mansion bridge I pass the Dell East, home of the Magnificent Funk Fest!  (worst hang over of my live acquired there).  West River Drive, Falls Bridge, the Wiss, and the tow path home.

now On a weekend Wiss is the spot, and 100's of pounds of food, grills, speakers, beers, families, and smiles make their way, down to the creek in the valley.  And as weird as it is, I find the weirdness of loud music rocking up out of the creek, and the parties, comforting.

I'm not every sure this time of year, out on the cross bike where I'll go.  I just want to ride, and I want the ride to make me fast, and I want to kick some ass when it comes to racing in the fall.

Ah, the Monday nights of Grass Track in August.   Taught me a lesson or two, and I change my cleats on my shoes about now, to avoid worn out unintended clip outs, and did so tonight. 

I'm not quite sure what I'm looking for out on these preseason rides, a special motivation, inspiration, strength, fortitude, a magic spell, maybe just a bit more compassion.  I'm glad I've made Philadelphia my home. 

I will be racing this fall, I might even get some recording breaking fast laps in at my local grass track.  I plan to  dig deeper and suffer more than I can imagine, out on the cyclocross course, even if it is just by myself. 

Cheers all!

dlowe

In a Spot

I am a learner, that comes by knowledge usually picked up, by painting myself into a corner.
I brake bits, strip, dent, snap, drop and lose them, quite easily on my first attempt.

It was a good, the last three days of riding, the heat and humidity did compound itself, and by riding home, Sunday, I was a bit more loopy, than my normal self.

Friday I did some workouts on the bike. "Stay Fit!"  I say.
warm and a light rain, I'm a cap wearer.   and I watched the water drop form and rock on the brim.

Saturday it did not take long at all!  To realize that what I'd thought about getting a good bit, of hard, long, rugged, cx trail riding work in, turned into, a long,  hazy, humid, it just ended up being, surviving a long,  humid, hard, and rugged trail ride, to its end.

Today was better.

I had considerable less expectations of what I could do, it was a good cx long ride, but at a lower intensity level.
and,
As I was just rolling out on the start of the ride, up the tow path, I saw a women in biking distress of some sorts.
I asked "are you fine, do you have what you need"  she answered, with a expression of "I don't"...

I stopped, it is a tough choice now a days, with so many out riding, who I help, and who is left to their own accord, to find a solution, and getting where they need to get, and their bike seems to have a problem.

Well she was, getting at the repair, on her way, to changing her tube, fixing a flat,  but I don't think she was far enough along to do it. 
I stepped in, and...
I did not booger anything up, I was a help.
and as I started to fix the flat,  she stopped me,
she asked "what is your name?"  I liked that.
It was better than a thank you, for sure.
and Quick I was, to fix that flat.
I helped her out and we were both on our way, snappy quick. 

Friday I was going hard, suffering, and my mind was to keep the body smooth, watch how far the drip rolled back and forth on the bill of my cap.
It was a light rain, and the drops came in a spread out steady pace.
and kept me good company.
Saturday, I just suffered,
Sunday....  a good long day of riding,  and with a nice memory!

Cheers, stay the course, keep training, stay fit!
dlowe

Strange Magic

I'm a real simple person.  If I ever did something incredibly grand or important, the people of the town wouldn't make DLowe Avenue,  it'd be more like Simpleton Street.   I like that, being simple.
I'd hope the street named after me, not that I can every imagine doing something grand and important enough, came to and made an intersection with Common Sense Street.  And on Common Sense Street we could build a few very nice but modest houses, and we'd house our most modest intellectuals.  Maybe a couple of young hipsters.  The States Supreme court Justice could have a big place, with a nice jacuzzi.  I'd make sure my dream of the best pastry/coffee shop came true, and I'd have a house of every ethnicity, and they'd have a simple sit down place, where you tasted and ate things you could not pronounce, and flavors you never imagined.

Today I got out for a ride with Andrew.  Andrew is a top notch masters rider from NM.  I know Andrew from playing in a band.  He was a 17 year old kid, that became our drummer,  I was 27 at the time.  It was pretty simple decision, good kid, excellent drummer and he got the music and energy that we played.
The streets today were pretty empty, and I just did  a loop down West River Drive, around the Mann, back past my home, and down the Cynwyd trail to the Rocky Statue where we met up.

I can't think of a more productive training ride then today's.  We just rolled along and chatted it up the whole way.  Good Stuff.

Good training sessions to you my racer friends,  stay fit, keep fast, be simple!


Cheers, dlowe

Independence day.

Anarchy only seems to work for ants.  Often and much proven every time I ride past Produce Junction on Bryn Mawr Ave.  You get two cars, trying to park and pull out and the whole road is blocked.   Independence, doesn't mean free for all.  Or think of myself first.  On a road ride, the front rider, is responsible for every wheel following.  Those small gestures, a slap to the right ass cheek, car on berm, a hand down is quiet and calm, a simple way to signal, that means to slow.  I always had problems on the Drives Ride with people jumping pot holes, I'd be behind that jerk, nail the hole, and flat, or my bars twisted down on the brutal impact, or I'd just say  "Fuck!" loudly, expressing, with my American right, my displeasure in leadership.
Everyone should know how to lead.


I have often spent restless Water Ice CX ride eves.   A goal, simple, to give as few rules, as possible, to somehow, that,  each rider takes on the responsibility for themselves and everyone else on the ride.  There have been crashes, lost souls, lots of laughs, flats, some rides the broom wagon has the most patient of driver, keeping that last place rider in good spirits, motivated, maybe to get them to dig deeper, and keep on.

Today I got out with the mates, Kelly and Lisa,  we were joined by a respectful Chris Mckenna, who sussed us out and snuck on, which only added, safely, more to the ride.

Lisa took the brunt of my trivia history lessons as we passed sights that had any importance.

and I told Chris about the secret  Coltrane mosaic mural.

I'm not sure why I chose to stop and visit the old goat Yoda, I guess he'll not be around much longer, I just find his story, and being, to be part of what is important to  me, what makes Philly, Philly.

thanks Chris for the photos

I love the Cyclocross Water Ice ride.

Cheers all, I look forward to riding together again!  dlowe

Ides of Ice

CX is never Cancelled

tomorrow is July 4th, and it's a special day in philly, it's water ice cx day.
The day to get out, and just do a ride, around town.  A cx ride.  With whoever has the ability.
tomorrow I will head out with Kelly, from my front porch, down to Manayunk to meet the start of the ride.    We'll greet our mate Lisa, and headed out for this years loop.


today, like all but one day since March 13th, I did not have work. and so I often get brief slips of day of the week forgetfulness.  This morning I met Lisa at the Valley Green Inn and we got out for a nice mtbike ride.
Today is Friday.

Friday nights are nice,  since the the 3rd Friday in March this year, my old college roomate, (I graduated from Ohio University '86) spins records live, on crappy old facebook live. 
Greg has a little lab set up, the walls filled with shelves of records.  He starts his show at 5:20 LA time.  He get's a good pile of records prepped, waits for us to join, talks a bit, cracks an hazy IPA, shows the album to the camera, and plops the vinyl on the turntable and away spins  my Friday nights nicely.

The checking cx results, and race predictor, the being called up, lined up in the grid.  the brutal short ride, trying to stay inside the tape, trying to push that much harder, to close that gap.   Post race beers, or painful numb toes.  Friends foes, clanging cowbells.  Standing atop a wood box!
Racing is never gone, it is always there, always to look forward to, and also,there are plenty of memories.  some I'd go as far to say, memories as strong as the pain of an Water Ice headache.
It's in my blood.
Cross isn't about how it has to be done, it's what and how we do it, despite everything, to get it done!

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, to my ride with Kelly and Lisa on this years Water Ice ride.

Cheers CX racers!  dlowe

Sassy

 I love getting out the bucket and brush and giving a bike a good scrubbing. 

my Niece's "new" bike

With all the new riders out there, I found it my enjoyable duty to wave at them all.

Every kid I pass, I make it a point to slow, and give an admiring compliment.

A true feeling compliant, it brings me joy to see a kid on a bike.   and I think that what I see in their smile; pride, independence, accomplishment.   To what  the ownership of that bike brings to that kid,...and man, that just gets me deep, in that amazing emotional soft spot.  Of throwing my arms up in the air as I cross the line.  Victory!

and much like the sound of the babbling brook in the woods, the cold after race beers, the long solo ride where you think there is no way that your toes won't fall off, that kid's smile is there big in my bank of cycling energy memories.

I felt like riding after dinner, my legs rockets, and I held 'em back

and just went hard on one longish climb, and crushed it.

I don't always enjoy every pedal stroke, and I often search for the meaning of why I'm riding. 

the tired angry, self flagellation, of being, slow.

Right now, I'd say I am not that far off of racing shape. 

My form is pretty good.

The last few weeks on the bike,

I've got a natural flow back, something I have not had for years.

and the very small groups of people I get out with,

there is a more genuine joy.

Meet Sassafras "Sassy"

I know the targeted value of a workout done on a trainer. 

Immense

but there is something to the flow I've forgotten.

and been forced to find again.

I got a text from my neice, looking for a bike, and I sent a text out to a couple of friends, and within a few seconds, I had a response.  Erin, was getting a SS Mtbike, and George "wink" was putting his foot down, and a bike had to get outta their house.

I am not sure of the history that Erin had with Sassy, 

but I'm sure as I know Erin, 

that nothing would make her happier, than Sassy being ridden on a hot summer night evening,

along a tow path,

to get ice cream, and to sit and enjoy the night.

Roll on racers, and don't forget to wave at all of our new friends on bikes.  They'll pick up, that, that is what a cyclist does, no matter how fast, or wide your tread,  that riding is the joy!

Cheers!  dlowe

The Bits and Pieces of a Personal-ality.

I got out yesterday with George, to ride White Clay park.  George has his route, navigating the park, that he likes, and I just followed along, Oh of course George  does encourage for me to take the front, and pedal in the lead, which I do enjoy to do every so often.

My single speed bike, is an older Salsa, the Mamasita.  and it really is an extra bike, so the bits on it, I tend to use what is left over, in still good working order, and keep it running that way.

I think it is easier to not be normal, it's a chore to do the things that are not your personality, to fit.

and I'll be ripe, at 58 this August,  and when I'm riding, I don't feel that I have an age, ...if I'm feeling fit.
That most likely what I like about you is all the beat up bits, and eccentric things that make you up!
and yesterday, I'm feeling pretty fit.   We rolled steady, and whatever the rear cog I had on the bike was the right one for White Clay.  The trails were empty, the weather, fine. 

Oh I wholeheartedly believe to be careful and not get chain ring grease on the back of my calf.  I  believe that your cycling cap can have little tilt, and a lot of looft.

and that we all should have our own names for the trails we ride.   I pass things that have been often passed, but it's my time, and that time, that makes it mine.

the less I reason with emotion and listen, I think I understand a bit better, that whatever I believe, and why,... it is probably wrong, and that makes me feel good, looking for the right way.

but anyway, riding with George yesterday at White Clay on my single speed mountain bike was fine!

and in my opinion,  that is the right way, to ride, yesterday.

the Salsa Mamasita single speed mountain bikes back in its palace in it's shed home.  Oh them poor old cx bikes, the sscx, and the old racer,  what shall i do with you?


Cheers!  dlowe