Be sure to take your clothes off and settle in for a treat when you do, because Kurt is one of the best massage therapists this side of the Mississippi.

Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a few months because Our Man of the Massage broke his thumb (or some dad-gum crappy hand-related injury) in a bike race recently and the subsequent surgery required has put him out of the body-rubbing game for a few months. Bad news for a boy who makes his living with his hands. : (

We all love Mr. Marion, so the Portland PACE crew has pulled together to organize a raffle in his honor and ever-fabulous Molly Cameron of Portland Bicycle Studio donated a sweet Ridley Crossbow for the grand prize. There’s some other good stuff in the pot including a full Hammer Nutrition cycling kit (more to come).

Tickets are $25. Learn more about the raffle here. Or buy a raffle ticket online here.

It’s a sweet way to potentially score a rad bike frame while helping out a talented kid who has helped all kinds of cyclists heal and recover at some point or another.

The winner will be drawn on March 31st – you do not need to be present to win. The winner will receive a frame in the size of their choice, shipped anywhere in the continental USA.

Thanks for helping out a fellow cycler-in-need.

Related posts:

1. Cycling Buddy: Find a Workout Partner for Inspiration
2. Oregon Manifest in the Oregonian

Why do you ride?

Pass it along.

Related posts:

1. Snow Bikes: Helmet Cam Footage from the Dusting
2. California Dreamin’: On Video
3. The “Ride of Your Life” Book Tour: An Interview with David Rowe

Meeting El Grupo, riding road bikes through foot deep washes (maybe we won’t try that one again), racing like matchbox cars along the swooping, smooth road of Saguaro East, ripping into our stash of Coke ManCans at Windy Point en route to the summit of Lemmon.

But one interaction still stands out.

The high five.

Windy Point on a fittingly windy day. Dan Sharp’s 40th birthday. There’s a life flight helicopter evacuating an injured sledder. We’re turning around.

There on Windy Point, I was descending slowly, weaving my way through the snow revellers that flanked the street, playing while they were parked and waiting for the road to re-open after the rescue. Up on the right, a young man was giving me the thumbs up.

Why? Who knows? Cycling in snowland worthy of a thumbs up? Probably.

I was rolling slow enough to put a hand up in the air as I went by and when he reached up and met me… bam! On-bike stranger high five! Instant human connection. No words exchanged.

What were we celebrating? Why did we do it? What did it mean?

Nothing. Everything.

It was 5,000 shades of awesome.

A random exchange of kick-assness. A spontaneous expression of rad.

Why did I put my arm up in the first place? Because of Colleen Smith.

A few days earlier, I’d been made aware of this. High fives for happiness – the High Five Project. In which six-foot-six-inch tall Smith attempts to spread joy with the simplicity of high-fives doled out to unsuspecting stranger.

Check out her video for inspiration and then go forth and spread the high-fiviness. It’ll make you all kinds of giddy, I promise.

*
Get the RSS Feed or subscribe to the Feedburner Email Delivery Service Extraordinaire to receive new posts by email:

Related posts:

1. Sweet! Free Tires! (Second place in Cyclocross Magazine’s “Spirit of Cyclocross” Essay Contest)

I’m going to New Zealand in October. Come hell or high water. Really.

After “racing” in the Cyclocross Single Speed World Champsionships last year and then reading about the madcap shenanigans at the 2010 mountain bike Single Speed World Championships, I realized that I must – at some point – attend one of these crazy event internationally.

Then it was announced the 2010 Mountain Bike Single Speed World Championships would be held in New Zealand.

And my heart stopped.

NEW ZEALAND!

A place of beauty. A place of wonder. A place I have always wanted to ride my bike.

What a great excuse to plan a trip!

So, that’s what I’m doing.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because I decided that if I’m going to go to all the trouble to plan this kind of trip, I might as well make it a big-assed party and invite a bunch of people. Besides, putting together a group itinerary will save a grip of cash.

I don’t have all the details worked out yet, but I am working with a network of providers to create a two-week trip.  I’m planning a road cycling tour in the south to follow three days at the SSWC.

This is the basic (tentative) lowdown:

• Dates: October 19th to November 1st
• Three days in Rotura for the SSWC
• Fly to Christchurch (warmer part of the country!) to meet up with some rad cycle-touring peeps
• 7 day road-riding tour with daily mileage from 40 to 90 miles.
• The packaged trip will cover airfare, most food, all lodging, transfer from Rotura to Christchurch, etc
• The packaged trip will not cover bike rental (or bike shipping/airline costs if you bring your own)
• I’ll probably need to have a small down payment commitment by March 30th April 30th

If you think you might be interested, just sign up for this here list and I will keep you updated as details come together.

To be clear, this list is only for NZ updates and will be used for nothing else – scout’s honor!

Grit and Glimmer and bicycle field trips,

Swift

Related posts:

1. Dear Diary 003: Black Magic and Sharpee Pens
2. How to Track Every Second of the 2009 Tour de France
3. Ladies: Are bike shops *still* failing us?

All of them are crazy.

Not Portland-Cyclocross-Woo-Hoo-PBR style crazy. No, these people are certifiable. As in, “Call the white coats!”

Ok, I jest. Kind of.

But what else drives a person to ride a bike for almost two weeks without sleep? Why else would someone fold themselves over aerobars and cross some of the nation’s most grueling mountain passes?  Why ride over 3000 miles all at once as fast as you can if not to prove that you are utterly and totally off your rocker?

Because of this:

RAAM gives people hope that ordinary people can do extraordinary things.

That quote stood out among many insightful reflections documented by director and editor Stephen Auerbach. It gets straight to the heart of why we all do what we do. Why we race our stupid bikes in circles even though no one is paying us – why we go out and rip out training runs in 39 degree rain.

Why we decide to ride across the country as fast as we can.

What happens in Bicycle Dreams is trying and glorious and ugly and wonderful and gut-wrenching. Auerbach’s cinematography is stunning – and the editing evokes a pace and cadence that reflects the grinding journey of its unglamorous heroes.

They get off their bikes and threaten to quit. They get back on and keep going. They pass out from exhaustion. They cry and sob and freak out. They hallucinate and get angry.

Some of them give up. And whether they finish triumphant or collapse in defeat, they all have something to teach us.

Whether or not you buy the “spiritual advancement from suffering” theory, it’s clear that Bicycle Dreams channels some kind of magic. It’s the kind of magic that makes crazy shit worth doing.

The Magic is inside us: it’s our heart, our desire, our passion.

Bottom line? Bicycle Dreams lives up to a big ask. It lives up to a story the size of an entire continent and a subset of cyclists who set out to conquer it.

But you don’t have to take my word for it – the film has already racked up seven awards at film festivals around the country.

Watch the trailer. Buy the movie. Throw a party. Bring tissues.

Related posts:

1. Calm Insanity: Cyclocross 2009
2. “Beyond the Epic Run” – Inspiration in Doses
3. What’s Your Favorite Sports Movie?

In which we successfully trick another reader

Editor:

I don’t mean to be a jerk or a sexist — but I’m sure going to sound like one here. Generally no one really cares about women’s road racing results or news, certainly when it’s lumped into overall headlines.

Today I read a headline “Evans triumphant in New Zealand.” Excitedly I clicked on the link thinking I would see an article about reigning world champion Cadel Evans’ early season form. Instead it was an article about Shelley Evans.

Stop trying to trick me into clicking on articles about women’s cycling and stop putting women’s cycling news in your overall road headlines. Trust me, your target audience doesn’t particularly care.

At the top of your main page, just make a separate link (WOMEN’S) for the few people who care to read up on women’s cycling news.

David Wade

David, thanks for playing. We’ll be sending you a catcher’s mask, a Shock Doctor BasiX Compression Short with Flex Cup and an application for the federal witness protection program. — Editor

Aside from the fact that Mr. Wade is clearly both a jerk and sexist (and so boring/unimportant that I don’t think we need to waste anymore words talking about him, though I do applaud him for not sending this anonymously.) I find two things particularly interesting about this letter.

1. Mr. Wade’s impetus for writing it. Ostensibly, his motivation for sending the letter came from his feeling of being “tricked” by VeloNews into “wasting a click”. The horror! An entire click wasted!  (Which is to say, this isn’t a reason at all – it’s a flimsy excuse to be able to send a letter he’s been meaning to write for a long time.)
2. The fact that this letter to the editor was selected to be published. I appreciate the humorous retort from the editor which implies that Mr. Wade’s comments are worthy of vitriol and attack : ). I can think of a couple reasons to publish it: Controversy. I’m writing this blog post, right? There’s a string of comments following the mailbag post.  Let’s face it, controversy is good for traffic. I’m fine with that. But why else? Why give this asshole a voice in the first place? To provide a forum for debate? A place for this conversation to happen? A place to air dirty laundry?

I applaud VeloNews for publishing the article and getting this issue out into the open (and exposing the imbecile behind it). I also applaud their coverage of Shelley Evans in New Zealand (the article in question) and the recently increased coverage of women’s cycling. But part of me can’t help but wonder why they would even give David Wade the pleasure of seeing his words on the glowing VeloNews website.

You all are a smart, opinionated lot. What’s your take?

*
Get the RSS Feed or subscribe to the Feedburner Email Delivery Service Extraordinaire to receive new posts by email:

Related posts:

1. “Real” Women and What We Want from Cycling Gear
2. How to Track Every Second of the 2009 Tour de France
3. Give Cycling Caps This Holiday (and BikeCraft 2008 Rocked!)

She claims to be “shy” (no, really, she does) but I spent my youth following her around talking to strangers. A natural reporter, she was prone to engaging people when she was curious about what they were doing or where they were going.

Contrary to most childhood lessons, my mother taught me how to talk to strangers instead of not to.

Our spontaneous conversations and interviews with people in our community made me cringe internally, though I was very good at putting up a front of interest.

But now I can’t control my Inner Mary. It was my Inner Mary Swift that led me to chase down El Grupo on the day they passed me near Gates Pass. I could have let them go and wondered forever about that funny group of kids on crazy steel bikes.

But  Mary took over and there I was, striking up a conversation with a stranger.

The conversation led to several meetings with El Grupo, a Tucson Youth Cycling Group.

Yesterday’s column in the Oregonian is a tribute to these kids. Kids who kick ass and take names. Kids who laugh and take care of each other and do good things for the world.

*
Get the RSS Feed or subscribe to the Feedburner Email Delivery Service Extraordinaire to receive new posts by email:

Related posts:

1. Damocles Lust: Ok, I Admit It Was Me
2. “Real” Women and What We Want from Cycling Gear
3. In the News: Compton Prepares to Crush, Powers Reads the NYT

Their house was 100% antique fabulosity. Museum grade pieces of history. Tiny, fragile objects. Big, wooden furniture from centuries past. An almost overwhelming treasure trove of visual and historical stimulation. With tortellini. And ham.

Cute little lovely Italian people celebrating life, food and love.

Eat well, people.

Related posts:

1. Photo Flashback: New Years Eve Dinner with the Siciliani
2. SSCXWC Photo preview
3. 30 Years Old and Faster Than Two Scalded Pigs

It still amazes me that with all of the things about cycling that we can control (and trust that I try to control them all), you can still just wake up and have a bad ride. Just like that. For no apparent reason.

“Of course you’re tired!” Sal said cheerfully, “That was a big ride!”

And it’s true. It was.

75 miles with 6000 feet of climbing isn’t exactly a Sunday stroll. But we’d done a bigger, harder ride on Sunday – and we’d ridden faster. And I’d felt about 3.6 million times better about the whole thing.

It was just a bad day on the bike. Bad only because I was getting no love from my body. Something was a little off – I was well-rested, well-fueled and pretty happy. We’d been laughing and chatting the entire way before it went south.

Things were fine until mile 40 when we crested Old La Honda and then the wheels came off. One by one. Slowly. Sans drama.

An ache here, a hacking cough there, a numb toe, a sore back. Up on Skyline the temperature dropped and I started to shiver. We still had about 2500 feet to climb.

My head was still in the game so I talked myself through every fucking pedalstroke. I pulled out every trick in the book. I said nothing, breathed hard, and kept riding. I thought of pizza and hot showers and papa’s homemade wine.

I thought of how mama would call me “Disgratziata” (disgraceful/wretch – it’s kind of a joke) when I got home. She does not understand our long rides. She thinks we’re crazy.

I was looking forward to the descent down Highway 9 into Saratoga (anything to stop this never-ending climbing!), but by the time we hit the coffee shop at the bottom all my extremities were numb, my lips were blue and my teeth were chattering. We killed a quick cup of joe, split a piece of apple cake and headed toward Los Gatos.

I made a few jokes while were stopped at intersections so Sal would think I was still having fun. I wasn’t. But the act was making me feel better.

On the climb up Kennedy I failed to launch the kind of attacks I’d thrown down just three day prior. With a car idling behind me on the narrow roadway, I moved further into a grimy shoulder, slipped out on wet leaves that looked dry and almost laid it out, unclipping at the last minute to catch the fall.

The car roared around me and I swore at it. Very quietly. Sal was out of earshot.

Kennedy was the last climb. Kind of a miniature blip on the elevation radar screen in terms of the others that we tackled but good-sweet-lord, it almost outdid me today.

When we finally pulled in the driveway at home, we found Fina in the kitchen deep frying fresh broccoli from the garden.

She called me Disgratziata and I begged her to let me steal one.

I must have really looked like a wretch because she agreed.

And then I crashed. The murky depths. The bottom. Boom!

At dinner I could hardly move, let alone speak. I laid down on the bed and paid attention to the throbbing in my legs. They hurt to the touch. Out in the main room, I could hear Sal getting in trouble. “Your riding is too hard! Look at her! She can’t even hold her head up!”

Mama loves me, this I know, because her yelling tells me so. : )

I’m going to be fine. And despite not delivering the most mind-blowing physical performance of my life today, this may have been the most important ride of the year.

Because when everything was coming apart, I found a way to keep pedaling. Because I shut my fucking mouth and made it happen.

Because I made it home alive.

Disgraceful. Wretched. And starving.

Related posts:

1. Surviving the Bad Days
2. Me and Pre: On Surviving the Hard Days
3. Remember This.

What’s your favorite bike and favorite type of riding?

Ouch! Favorite bike! That’s a tough one.

To be honest, my favorite bike is a figment of my memory. It was a vintage Pogliaghi that Sal gave to me to use when I met him. A “friend” of ours took it and never returned it. It’s a long story.

Back to reality. Here’s my favorite bike: Veloforma F1R Road Bike

It’s the nicest bike I’ve ever had, more bike than I probably deserve, and on the first day I rode it I felt like I could climb.

If that ain’t magic, then I don’t know what is.

As for my favorite riding, it’s a tie between cyclocross and touring. The touring thing might come as a surprise since I haven’t done a lot of it but I absolutely love the idea of the bike as Journey Machine. I’m smitten with actually covering significant ground with my bike, instead of just riding in big 80 mile circles around town. I have done a lot of ultralight backpacking in the past and I like the feeling of self-sufficiency and simplicity.

**

Dartanyon says:

When you first got into cross, did you find that there was a bit of a “clique” mentality that you had to get passed, or was the community more open. -OR- How did you find the attitudes of the people when you first got into cross?

You know. This is a really interesting question.

I routinely write about how inclusive and fun cyclocross is. About how easy it is to get into and how welcoming the community is. And I really think all those things are true – compared to road racing, cyclocross is a kumbaya campfire of cycling love.

But because the community is so tight knit, you definitely know when you’re not in it.

The first year Sal and I raced we put an umbrella in a bike workstand and warmed up underneath it alone. Our friend Sherry came to all of our races and often talked me into racing when I tried to back out at the last minute because I was scared out of my mind.

We didn’t really feel specifically isolated, but we definitely didn’t feel like part of the club. It wasn’t personal – it was just a matter of hanging out and racing and talking to people and meeting people. It took time.  I felt like people were extremely friendly and welcoming when we did get to interact with them.

And – then – BAM! After the first year, people recognize you from the year before. They recognize you on training rides. They wave. You talk to them on the start line. They offer you a burger. They offer you a beer.

The rest is history.

I’d say, like all good relationships, it took time because because it was substantive and meaningful.

**

XTERRAPortland says:

I dare, no DOUBLE DOG DARE, you to race XTERRA Portland on August 14, 2010 at Hagg Lake.

(I know someone who will teach you how not to drowned)

I’m scaring even myself with this response but. I’m actually a little tempted.

*

Lindsay says:

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Good question. I’m making it up as I go along. To be honest, it probably has something to do with a house in the country with a small farm, a lot less social stuff, and a lot more writing and reading.

In general I’d like the trajectory of my future life to trend toward more “quiet”. Hence the Tucson mental checkout this winter.

**

**

Kristin says:

Why bikes?

I never really had a choice. They came with the Sicilian.

I joke about this, but it’s true. I would have never been inclined to become a competitive cyclist otherwise.

It’s an expensive sport requiring obnoxious amounts of time. I find the demographics troubling. There’s a lot about cycling that I struggle with, actually.

But after many years, bike-love finally overcame me.

**

**

Lindsay says:

Why Sal?

Sal is funny and calm and happy.

He is kind of like human valium for me.

What I’m saying is, we complement each other. He keeps me sane, I keep him motivated.

Also, Sal doesn’t want kids and that’s a hard quality to find in a good man, I tell you.

**

Caroline says:

Where is Tyler Brady?

http://blogtown.portlandmercury.com/BlogtownPDX/archives/2010/03/03/where-is-tyler-brady

I really wish I knew but I hope he’s safe and sound.

**

Paul L. Kordus says:

It seems like you ride all year long, from someone like myself who has a winter to xc ski I sometimes get burned out trying to get as much riding as possible in from March to November or December depending on the weather how do you keep from burnout?????

Ah ha! A common misconception. I actually do not ride my bike all the time.

I hate riding in the summer and prefer to ride in the colder winter months. Last year I did not touch my bike once during the month of July and only rode twice in August (for a total of 85 miles). During ‘cross season from September to December I averaged 20 miles a week, which included races (which basically accounts for one hour training a week with a race on Sunday). FYI: I do not recommend this training plan.

I’m a big fan of taking breaks from the bike. I burn out mentally very easily – mostly because I get bored out of my mind with cycling after a while.

When that happens I usually start running again. I’m also an unapologetic gym rat with a penchant for weight lifting. And I love brushing up on my line-drive mashing capabilities at the batting cages.

So, basically, when you feel burned out – do something else! The day you feel obligated to be on the bike is absolutely the day you should stay away from it. (Unless you’re working toward some really lofty goal that requires some intense training and a different level of commitment, if that’s the case – then remind yourself what you’re working toward and go pedal.)

Jen says:

What kind of camera do you use on your rides?

I use a Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX3 or my iPhone. The Lumix is a little bigger than I’d like, but it does the trick. I just set it to “Sports Mode” and let ‘er rip.

Related posts:

1. Putting Boot Camp Fitness to the Test: First Cyclocross Ride
2. To Cyclocross Season, With Love.
3. Post-CycloCross Stress Disorder: Someone Turn Off the Cowbells