Parkour, or free running, is for freaks:
Friday, June 12, 2009
Things I Love About Bicycles, Part II
So this morning I was riding down the river, as is my wont, when I all of a sudden I rolled up on a guy with a fishing bike.
A FUCKING FISHING BIKE!!!
He had his tackle box in a basket on the front, and he had fashioned a rod holder out of an old head tube that was affixed to a rack on the back. It was amazing.
He was fishing for stripers and carp in the Charles on the way to work. Amazing.
He also had a portrait of William Tecumseh Sherman tattooed on his calf.
A FUCKING FISHING BIKE!!!
He had his tackle box in a basket on the front, and he had fashioned a rod holder out of an old head tube that was affixed to a rack on the back. It was amazing.
He was fishing for stripers and carp in the Charles on the way to work. Amazing.
He also had a portrait of William Tecumseh Sherman tattooed on his calf.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Something I love about bicycles - Part I
I really love those old guys you see riding along on ancient ten-speeds, wearing gardening gloves.
Cause here's the thing. Their hands are cold. They garden. They have gardening gloves (which are also cheap). That follows
Maybe they're on their way to garden.
Maybe they have a bad case of poison ivy and they don't want to have it last forever by passing it back and forth between themselves and their grips.
Or maybe they're just batshit crazy. They spend their days tying flies for fly rods they don't own. They have every newspaper from the last decade in their garage. They're building a fucking ark.
Whatever the case, I think they're awesome.
Cause here's the thing. Their hands are cold. They garden. They have gardening gloves (which are also cheap). That follows
Maybe they're on their way to garden.
Maybe they have a bad case of poison ivy and they don't want to have it last forever by passing it back and forth between themselves and their grips.
Or maybe they're just batshit crazy. They spend their days tying flies for fly rods they don't own. They have every newspaper from the last decade in their garage. They're building a fucking ark.
Whatever the case, I think they're awesome.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The decision not to decide
I read a lot of bike blogs. Lately I've been hoovering up the fixed-oriented blogs, but I also read some pro road blogs. I read stuff about cross, bmx, old English cruisers, mechanic blogs, product-related info. I read it all. And, invariably, I bring some of it back here to sift through.
What struck me recently, especially as regards all the fixed gear blogs sprouting, is that I can't imagine confining myself to one type of cycling. This blog can be pretty erratic, but I think that's a good thing. In my mind, cycling is about freedom, the freedom to escape, the freedom to wander, so that's what this blog tries to be.
What struck me recently, especially as regards all the fixed gear blogs sprouting, is that I can't imagine confining myself to one type of cycling. This blog can be pretty erratic, but I think that's a good thing. In my mind, cycling is about freedom, the freedom to escape, the freedom to wander, so that's what this blog tries to be.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
A dream
I dream of living in a Holland-like place.
I dream of the Mass Ave Bridge being travelled only by bicycles and of the coffee shops being surrounded by piles of bicycles three deep.
I dream of excellent music playing from loudspeakers on every corner, of snow falling but never hitting the ground.
I dream of a chain that never needs lube, tires that never need air, legs that never need rest.
I dream of getting around the office by bicycle, the perfectly smooth linoleum floor squeaking under my rubbery weight.
I dream of living in a neighborhood where my kids can ride safely, where horns don't honk and brakes don't squeal.
I dream of running right the fuck out of oil and not caring at all.
I dream of the Mass Ave Bridge being travelled only by bicycles and of the coffee shops being surrounded by piles of bicycles three deep.
I dream of excellent music playing from loudspeakers on every corner, of snow falling but never hitting the ground.
I dream of a chain that never needs lube, tires that never need air, legs that never need rest.
I dream of getting around the office by bicycle, the perfectly smooth linoleum floor squeaking under my rubbery weight.
I dream of living in a neighborhood where my kids can ride safely, where horns don't honk and brakes don't squeal.
I dream of running right the fuck out of oil and not caring at all.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Monday Legs
Sometimes on Monday you have Monday legs. Monday legs are strong. Monday legs see a hill and attack it. Monday legs sprint for the light. Monday legs crank you off the curb. You always want to have Monday legs.
The catch is that if you use your Monday legs too much on Monday, you don't have them on Tuesday. You spend the rest of the week bashing your quads for more energy.
So on Mondays I try to ride hard but hold something back. In a perfect world, I use a little bit of Monday legs every day of the week, and then on Friday I wind it out on my way home. Sometimes I succeed. It's so cool to have Monday legs on Friday. You get that sprinting for the weekend feeling.
And then you go mtn biking on Saturday and drag yourself around the trails like a zombie, because jeebus bezeebus you gotta take a day off sometime. Don't you?
The catch is that if you use your Monday legs too much on Monday, you don't have them on Tuesday. You spend the rest of the week bashing your quads for more energy.
So on Mondays I try to ride hard but hold something back. In a perfect world, I use a little bit of Monday legs every day of the week, and then on Friday I wind it out on my way home. Sometimes I succeed. It's so cool to have Monday legs on Friday. You get that sprinting for the weekend feeling.
And then you go mtn biking on Saturday and drag yourself around the trails like a zombie, because jeebus bezeebus you gotta take a day off sometime. Don't you?
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