Ponies

Cold Weather Victories

When I saw this poster it made me laugh, reminding me of a street scene from the previous day: A woman bundled up in a shearling coat and hat waited for a taxi, while a cyclist in a long sleeve jersey and tights waited at a red light. The woman looked cold and uncomfortable. The cyclist looked ruddy and relaxed, checking his phone for messages with one unclipped toe on the ground.



In the short time window before the cyclist's light turned green and the woman's taxi arrived, somehow the two ended up in a conversation. As I walked past, I caught bits of their exchange. "But how can you... in the cold?," and so forth. By the time the cyclist replied, I was out of earshot. But whatever it was he said to her, they both laughed that special laugh that rings with anticipation. And when I looked back over my shoulder discreetly (I hope), sure enough the woman had her phone out and it looked like they were exchanging numbers. His light had turned green. Her taxi was waiting. They were on the side of the road smiling. "Stay warm!" I thought I heard him yell when he finally took off on his bike. More laughter.



Briskly walking down the street as I fiddled with my scarf, I experienced a moment of longing for my roadbike, and for my technical layers of cycling clothes! It's just so much nicer to be on the bike in cold weather, I caught myself thinking...

Wille Nelson Concert

Today Nathan and I decided to head over to Sea World to use our passes. They are going to expire in April, so we are hoping to use them a lot before then. When we arrived, we noticed it was packed. So packed that we could not even park in the Priority Parking lot. I like parking in the Priority Parking lot. But more than that, I like going to Sea World when it isn't packed.



I couldn't figure out why so many people were there until we got inside. Well, I could have figured it out, had I listened to Nathan but instead I didn't figure it out until I got inside. I saw on a poster that they had special entertainment and food. When I saw who was there, I got OMG giddy about it. Giddy enough that I didn't even mind that so many people were there.



We headed over the stadium where the concert was at...about two hours early, and sat with all the other people already there waiting. Then I sent a text message to my sister. I said: Guess who I am about to see in concert? Hint: oh that lucky old sun ain't got nothing to do....but roll around heaven all day....

Once we established who in fact I was talking about, we discussed why I sent her a text message about it. We love music, but I had to let her know that I was going to see Willie Nelson live because of a childhood bonding experience over Willie.



When we were teens, my Mom left her regular music menu of all gospel, all the time, and went down the wild and wicked path of the likes of artists like Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson. I'm still not sure what this was about, since this is the same woman that told me Nathan was not someone I should be dating because he took me a Billy Joel concert. Whatever the reason though, she would sit in her rocking chair at night while we were trying to go to sleep and listen to the records.



Picture three teenage girls lying in bed at night listening to Willie Nelson records. Against their will. What could we do...well, what we did do is take the attitude "if you can't beat them, join them". So we started to join in and sing at the top of our lungs with our best Southern drawls (those years in Texas paid off!) and sang right along with Willie. Which cracked my Mom up. Or maybe it was we girls who were cracking up. Either way, laughter replaced groans.



All of that came in quite handy today, because now I'm old enough to appreciate that Willie Nelson is a legend. And it's an honor to see him in concert. Especially when you still know all the songs!

Let me tell you, Nathan and I have been to a lot of concerts together. And this was one of the best ones we have been to. There are people who can sing.

There are people who can entertain.

A select few can do both. Willie is one of those people.

His voice is incredible for his age (77 years old) and he has so much expression in his face when singing.

Did I mention, he plays a mean guitar?He plays a seriously mean guitar.In honor of my sisters, I sang with all my heart. Oh, and Mom...he even played a couple of gospel songs for you! They were even old time country gospel songs. It was awesome!I am so grateful we got to see this legend while he is still with us. I loved seeing someone do what they love and do it well. My favorite shot and my Project 365 pick for today...thanks for rocking with us, Willie...then and now!Living the life in music filled Florida!

A Ride with Irene

And so we have weathered the storm. Here in Boston, the general attitude toward Hurricane/ Tropical Storm Irene has mostly been one of sarcasm. Sure, there was some anxiety - stocking up on water and that sort of thing. But for the most part it's been a collective rolling of the eyes, a general feeling that the whole thing was unnecessarily hyped up by the media. One local establishment posted a handwritten sign stating "Closed tomawrah due to wicked bad hurricane!" Other businesses ranted against the public transit system for shutting down - drafting "Closed for the Day Thanks to MBTA" signs explaining that their employees have no way of getting to work - but that otherwise they would have happily remained open.

My own feeling was that the hurricane/ storm was not so much intentionally overhyped, as unpredictable - and there was a conscious decision to err on the side of caution. I also felt that it was insensitive of some to make light of a potentially destructive phenomenon just because it did not cause havoc in their neighbourhood. We live on the border of Somerville and Cambridge, MA, where the storm felt mild - but it did damage even here. Around mid-day Saturday, a large tree toppled over onto a major road around the corner from us, knocking out power lines and blocking part of the street until the city cleared it away. Had anyone been walking, cycling or driving on that side of the street at that exact moment, they could very well have been killed.

Today we carefully cycled around the neighbourhood and discovered more trees uprooted and large branches strewn across side streets.The strange thing is that the wind did not feel all that strong even during the worst of it, so we were surprised to see some fairly large trees knocked over. Does this mean they had shallow root systems?



Powerlines were downed in quite a few places, too. One local coffee shop that decided to stay open lost power on Sunday afternoon, yet remained operational for as long as some pre-brewed coffee remained. Customers would come in and sit with their drinks and pastries in the dark - quite happily, since this was one of the very few places open.



Surveying the damage in our neighbourhood, I think that the calls for caution were justified, even if the storm did not reach hurricane level. Overwhelmingly, motorists chose to stay off the roads here and the streets have been mostly empty - which I am certain accounts for the lack of injuries and casualties, considering the fallen trees and dangling powerlines. Cap'n Transit wrote a post a couple of days ago about the connection between driving and hurricane deaths that is worth reading.



I hope that all my East Coast readers are doing well, and that the storm has not been too severe for you. Has anyone been cycling?

Orchids & Kitties

These are some photos of the orchids I bought the other day. They had been $12 and marked down to $3 because they didn't have the sence to water them and they had wilted badly. I was surprised at how well they came back. some of the blossoms were all dried up and fell of but the ones that were just kind of limp opened back up once they had some water.



















Cassie



Twinkie

Cat Parables

When they had all gathered together, the cat was completely silent, and some speculated that perhaps he had fallen asleep. The cat slowly opened wide his eyes, and winked. Several of his disciples tried to interpret what this meant, though of course none of them were correct.

Spectator Sport

"So I hear you are into cyclocross," said Martina from Clever Cycles as we chatted on the second day of Interbike. I responded with genuine amazement. "Me, into cyclocross? What makes you say that?" And then I remembered that I'd spent the previous evening live-posting a continuous stream of blurry snapshots from Cross Vegas - "the biggest cyclocross race in America." I gave up two other industry events to attend this thing. I guess it did seem like I was pretty into it! But as I was quick to explain, I am only interested in watching, not racing. In fact, of all the forms of cycling out there, cyclocross is the one I am least likely to actually take part in (it combines every aspect of cycling I am terrible at!). Moreover, I had never before been able to tolerate - let alone enjoy - watching sports of any kind. So what makes cyclocross so appealing?






As it happens, Molly Hurford has just written a book that seeks to answer that very question. It's called Mud, Snow, and Cyclocross: How Cross Took Over US Cycling. Having borrowed a copy from the Ride Studio Cafe library, I finished it just days before Interbike. Aside from providing historical context, Hurford's book helped me make sense of my own feelings toward this bizarre sport. As race promoters all over the country have discovered, cyclocross is in many ways the perfect spectator event. And so I thought it might be interesting to describe it from the point of view of someone who is purely a spectator - and a fairly clueless one at that.






To do this, I will backtrack to last year's Interbike, where it all started. I had zero interest in attending Cross Vegas, but tagged along with Chris Kostman, who insisted I should at least stop by ("Come on, you can't go to Interbike and not see this!"). We drove to a giant field on the outskirts of town filled with tipsy people and flooded with electric light. In the distance I could see a colourful blur of bicyclists making their way through an elaborate obstacle course. As the sounds of cowbells and screams filled my ears, I remember wondering: "What am I doing here?" Five minutes later I was leaning over a barrier, ringing a cowbell and having a shockingly great time. And that's pretty much your typical "my first time watching 'cross" story. No one intends to like it, but inevitably they do.






This year we arrived to the spectacle of Elvis performing on stage before the start of the elite races.






Visitors wandered around purchasing water, beer and cowbells.






Cyclists rode around the grass warming up. Bicycles were being adjusted.






Before the crowds became too dense, I got the chance to survey the empty course. Winding around the grassy field, it did not look too technical, though there were lots of tight turns and a couple of short steep hills.





And, of course, these. I still remember how stunned I was when I first saw the riders hop right over them without breaking stride. How is this possible?







And then the race began. First the women's elite race; the mens would be next. Watching the hoard of riders charge cross the start line, the excitement of it all came back to me. I got goosebumps.





The thing is that at a cyclocross race, you can stand so close that you feel the energy of the riders wash over you like a wave.





And this wave is not some abstract poetic concept. It is very real, visceral. Even if you know nothing about race tactics and don't follow the background stories of any of the riders - just standing there and feeling so much human power and speed happening inches from your own body is a physical rush.





Watching track racing is more abstract in comparison, because the riders are further away. And with road racing you can only witness a small portion of the course at a time. But with cyclocross, all is laid out right in front of you in close proximity. The course winds around the spectators; it intertwines with them. There is a feeling that everything is happening everywhere, all at once.





Pressed against the barrier, I can see the riders' flushed faces, gritted teeth, twitching fingers, razor-burned legs. The physicality and rawness of it are overwhelming.





And then there are the technical parts that differentiate cyclocross from other forms of cycling. The obstacles, the vertical uphills, the dismounts and remounts, the bouts of running with the bike. No matter how graceful the rider, there is an intimate awkwardness to these struggles that makes us feel as if we are witnessing something private that perhaps we are not supposed to be witnessing.






Equally intriguing, is when a group of riders is so synchronised in their movements, that the dismounts and remounts appear to be done in choreographed unison - like a staged ballet.





And of course there are things like this - at which point it is the crowd's chorus of gasps that seems choreographed.






Watching first the women's, then the men's race, I noticed differences. The men stuck in larger, tighter clusters while the women were more strung out after the first lap. There were also difference in demeanor and body language - too subtle to describe, but nonetheless there. Watching the two races were separate experiences.






As the lead group of riders made its way through the course, spectators would rush to position themselves in different spots. This too was interesting to watch.






Through the elbows of others, I could see the anticipatory face of each rider as they crossed the finish line.






What struck me was how much they seemed to be savouring the moment, rather than rushing through it. There was a performative, theatrical element to it.






Photographers were everywhere, capturing the action with impressive lenses and flash units. John Watson's Cross Vegas photos on Prolly is Not Probably are especially worth a look.






While my low-light snapshots are far from professional quality, they do reflect my experience of the event as a spectator: dark and chaotic, punctuated with bursts of light and blurs of colour.






I am not sure whether any of this really explains what makes watching cyclocross fun. It is an evasive quality, but ultimately it is about entertainment - genuine entertainment. You don't even have to like sports or racing to enjoy it - though you might surprise yourself by developing a taste for beer and cowbells.






Accessible and awe-inspiring in equal measure, cyclocross strikes the perfect balance between a country fair, a bicycle race, and an alcohol-fueled block party. While the circus of Cross Vegas examplifies this more than typical races, it truly is the ultimate spectator sport.