Assorted Snobbery: Doing It Wrong

The problem with visiting Elk's Blog and then wandering about YouTube's selection of Fugazi and The Evens is coming across the snippet below. It could potentially cause you to want to leave your office, take your computer to a coffee house and work on a little upstart frame fabrication company instead of actually doing your day job.



Of course, the fact I started piling on miles this week has also left my legs in a state of pleasant tiredness, which also makes me want to go get coffee and work on War Axe. Can't go wrong. Can't do it right.

The American Pit Bull

I have to believe that as long as their have been cyclists, they have been chased by dogs.  And if your riding habits put you on gravel or in rural parts of your world, it likely happens enough that you've developed your own way of coping with the offenders, with it's own peculiar order of operations.  A friendly voiced, a sprint, water shot out of bottles, bottles themselves; all in a effort to stay one step ahead of a bite aimed for your achilles.

Of course, I've been through my fair share of dogs sprinting through yards.  Most come to say hello but a few have wanted a little something more.  Today was a first though, as I pushed into the West wind on Bennett road just southwest of Lincoln.  My head was down as I mashed my way up a hill.  As I crested, I looked to my right to see two dogs in a dead sprint toward me.  The second dog barely caught my attention though, because his buddy was a large white, muscles ripping, American Pit Bull.  My eyes went wide.

Of course, not every Pit Bull owner runs the 40 in 4.4 and tortures dogs in his spare time.  In fact my brother has a Pit, so I slowly dismounted to put my bike between myself and the block of flying muscle.  "Hey Buddy!!  Come here." 

The tale gave him away and a little love-fest ensued with my new single serving canine friend.  His owner came out just as I started scratching the dog head.  He walked out and I said, "most of you guys freak out, but he wouldn't harm a fly."  I just smiled, gave the other dog a little pat and headed out.

Even though all was well.  That moment of looking up and seeing the Pit in a full sprint toward me had still jacked me up.  At least it helped me finish out my ride strongly.

"Throw'em Con!!"

Worked from four windy hours in the but the stoked on the new War Axe
t-shirts in undiminshed.

Thanks to the Hoss Creative and Screen Ink for the style council.

Crap, It's Starting to Feel Real

UFO sighting number one.

(Personally, I think this photo, and the others, are photoshopped.)

Sickly Scent of Desperation

Naturalist missives about the circle of life aside, it is ironic and seemingly pathetic to me how I feel the same ruts, paranoia and passion start and restart the same times each year, a passion victim case study in how difficult it is not to constantly hit 'repeat.'

Now, sitting here in January with the earmarks of a season to come queued up waving in the distance, my little panics about riding and training keep creeping up my back to stand on my shoulder and ask me why 2 degrees is too low, cookies still catch my eye and 8am is too early to meet people to ride.

'New' Chrome store in SF.  Yet another do-over.

At least now, those panics prove to be more archangel that devil, prodding me along as opposed to providing a load bearing weight.  Eight pounds lost.  Bikes restored to standards.  Finding fitness under the dust-covers.

So as the cold temps continue and trainer time turns the movies I own into the movies I quote, it's the little twists that spark fire.  Little steps with War Axe, strides with Susan's Snappy Caps and races viewed with a competitive eye and others for the sake of new experience. 

More space.  More product.  Same great vibe.  Same shitty phone camera.

NAHBS.  Ouachita.  TransIowa.  Kanza.  24hr Nationals all sit in that queue, holding places in line to be filled.  Revamp.  Rewind. Repeat.  I'm ready to let the archangel on my shoulder lead on, even if I am not sure I'm ready for where we are going.

You Are Not the Coffee You Drink...

City Lights

Bayside

Hipster is so Mainstream

20 Feet from the Hotel

at the Contemporary Jewish Museum of San Francisco...

Another Day at the Playground

Homestretch

December Suprise

Pleasant surprises aren't many during the holidays anymore, but today
proved an exception.

Depauw University has turned an old quarry into miles of trails which
are perfect for trail running and I decided to explore nearly all of
it today, continually driven on by surprising views and a sunny day.

The highlight was popping out of the woods to the surprise of a quarry
rim trail with a sky stretching for miles. I ran constantly eyes
right until jogging down through the base of the old quarry, dodging
small ponds which reminded me of tide pools out west.

If ever there was an oasis in the midst of a vacation, this was it.

The Only Thing Missing Is a Train

Hello Springfield!!

I think I jinxed us with my last post. Our plane flight was cancelled
in Springfield, Illinois late yesterday, so, stranded in a strange
city, we spent the night and have rented a car to get to Indy.

I've been throwing out "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" quotes this
morning, buy they're lost on my crew and so fairly pointless.

So, to steal a phrase from Henry Rollins instead, "I like lemons."

Silver Lining

Amid cancelled and delayed flights today, a small ray of sunshine.
Late arrival in Indy means breakfast at Cafe Patachou and espresso at
Hubbard and Cravens.

If I could work a ride in, I might actually prefer the delay.

Merry Christmas

Dandyism

There have certainly been times where I've been accused of being too concerned with aesthetic.  Of crossing the blurry line between enjoying the balance of life and art to join the vast amount of the masses who forgo practical application for the strict line of thinking which asks, "How do I look?"  

On the whole, I think I've managed to keep a balance (and have friends good enough to raise a halting hand when I start to go off course).  So, while I ride pink bikes and wear "snappy" caps, the questions of quality have always held firm enough to keep the balance and maintain enough class to keep me out of the gutter.

I think that balance is also why I find myself continually interested in the Rapha Continental Project.  Though the may be called poseurs and the product carries a sometimes cringe worthy price-tag, I still find the rides, routes and written words inspiring.  As I said when I posted the video of the Gentemen's Race, it seems to be "road racing I can get behind."

Now, they have introduced a extension of the Project called "Continental Calling."  Submit an epic and lead the Continental gang on a ride for a day.  So while the kids have the proverbial sugar plums dancing in their heads tonight, I will likely have routes running through mine.  If things worked out, I might even have someone create a cap for the occasion.  Seems like something a "dandy" would do.

Winter of Discontent

Hang Me Up to Dry

It occurred to me today that, though we gathered multiple bloggers in a single house, no one posted anything and therefore, nothing happened.  Or, to carry the theme too far forward, apparently the first rule of the party was that you don't talk about the party.

Thanks to everyone who came, particularly if you drove six hours in a borrowed car and strolled onto my back porch to fight a frozen door open and have your arrival stun me under the Christmas tree lights.  

In all seriousness, I hope everyone enjoyed themselves.  I know I did, even though in the end I realized I don't have the game to stay up until 4am anymore (unless of course, I'm on a bike.)

"Forty Is the New Minor Threat."

Quote from Johnny.  Invitation stylized by Mrs. Snob.

Use of crappy camera phone.  Me.

I really did think I would be dead by 40.