Lago Race Reporto

So maybe attempting to race an entire weekend in the P12 field at La Primavera at Lago Vista, a grueling 83 miles up one side of a 6.6 mile course then a mad decent down the backside where racers can exceed speeds of 50mph was not the best idea. Ten short days ago I was chilling on the beach of Costa Rica making a daily routine of surfing and watching sunsets fizzle out into the Pacific. Maybe it was just a dream....

Traditionally the course was run clockwise both days but the last couple of years Sunday's course has been run counter clockwise. I am not sure which direction is harder. There comes a point both days where I gotta convince myself that I can do just one more pedal stroke, one more hill, one more lap....

Team Wooly Mammoth, an intergalactic cycling team that offered me a contracto after I served a suspension related to abnormal blood values in an out of competition test that can best be described as a complete mix up in the lab with my blood and the blood of the juicy steak I refused to not finish when WADA came knocking, finds no other race more traditional and romantic than Lago, so naturally we offered our services to PeleDon. In return for running registration and vehicle support, TWM was offered calm nights of clear sky star gazing out in the Texas Hill Country and breakfast tacos.

Since coming back from Costa Rica, I jumped back into my Austin experience of work, yoga, training, racing and friends and family. I raced Pace Bend last weekend and used my beginner surf skills to last until 3 miles with just two training days after 15 days off the bike. Lago would be different, I knew, and upon arriving Friday night, I fell into a deep sleep I had not had in I don't know how long. I awoke at 6 to work registration and lasted two hours before I went back to bed. Two hours later it was time to get ready to race. I lasted two laps. I rode another hour around the beautiful Lago area, witnessed more of the lasting effects of the drought on lake levels and then went back to bed. Elbowz came back from last weekends mismanagement to take 8 of the top 10 spots. Highlight of my day was the highlights in our waitress' hair at dinner.

I promised myself that I would finish Sunday. Here's what it took:

About lap two I am all too aware that I am in great difficulty. How I'm gonna last 15 laps is of no immediate concern cause I'm too focused on how I am going to last another hill. About lap three I find Steve Tilford tucked away in the middle of the pack. His pedal stroke is so smooth and I ride behind his left leg applying some of the mythology of left body/right body my yoga teacher talks about in class. This is his creative side. The side that makes real nice circles with the pedals, the side that moves his 50+ year old body to so many victories on the bicycle. I feel relaxed. Then I move to his right side. His masculine side. I feel stronger. Everything turns mechanical. Bike racing is a means to an end and I must turn off everything except the functions to make my body move faster. About a lap or two later I come unattached from the field. I push myself but it's not getting me any closer to coming back together with the moving peloton. I can't quit so I keep pedaling.

Riding by yourself in a race, either in front or behind the field, has one obvious advantage: everyone knows its you. Words of encouragement were spoken to me all along the course as I kept coming back around further and further down. Eventually the Cat2 race caught and passed me. They were doing two laps less than the P12 race so as I came across the start/finish when I should have 6 more laps I saw 4 laps to go. Hey, I said I would finish the race. I wasn't gonna argue with the break, so I turned the gears a little more confidentially. Next lap, the officials adjusted the lap cards for me and I saw 6 laps to go. Oh well...

Next to lap me was the break of the P12 race and shortly after the remnants of the field. After riding about six laps solo it was not that difficult to jump in with this group. Next time up the climb, the field split into about three groups and I ended up in the third group with about 7 guys. We came around for 3 laps to go and the officials had 2 laps to go displayed. I was so amped. I rode up the climb, leading our group the whole way, with the anticipation and excitement of "finishing" but really not giving up. Next lap, officials adjusted their mistake and had 2 laps to go displayed. I was reminded of my 2 hr taxi drive from the airport in Costa Rica to where I was staying. The signs would show 6km to Playa Guiones, then 5 minutes later show 10km. "what the ?!" I pointed this out to the taxi driver every time it happened and he would just shrug. We would get there eventually, I just had to keep riding.

When I crossed the line, I was alone and everyone was almost gone. I got dropped from our little group on the last lap and stopped to pee before I went in my chamois. My stuff had been removed from our room and set outside cause we were supposed to be out at 4. It was 4:20. We started the race at 12:30. Elbowz took 1-4. My friend, Colton, was the only rider in a 5 man break not riding for Elbowz. Outnumbered, he went for broke and earned his 5th place and a lot of respect for fighting till the end.

Re: Bike Messengers and Bike Racers

Begin original correspondence:

Hello John,

Thank you for the interview last year. I am still working on my bicycle study.

I have a question about the link between bike messengers and bike racers.

I learned that Nelson Vails, the silver medal at the 1994 Los Angeles Olympics, was a bike messenger from Harlem in New York.

I also learned that some of the historical Colombian bike racers participated in the Tour de France used to ride bikes for work.

So I wonder if there are still many bike racers in the US who has either a bike messenger or another job use biking. Are there any other successful US bikers have similar bike work background?

A lot of people told me that bicycling is becoming an expensive sport and hard to be a successful racer unless you come from a rich family.

What do you think? Do you agree? Can you share me your perspective and experience?

best regards,

Toshi

Begin Response Here:

So good to hear from you, Toshi.

There are several accomplished messengers turned pro. Probably one of the most accomplished and current is Jason McCartney. He left the pro peloton and worked as a messenger before retuning to the pro ranks and riding for Team Radio Shack. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/15/sports/olympics/15bikes.html

Another messenger turned pro (and personal friend) is Jen Purcell. She was a messenger back in the early 2000s in Dallas and made a name for herself in the Texas scene. She went back to school and after graduating got back into racing. Two years ago she won three national medals and rode last year looking for a contract. She finally got one with Team Tibco and will be doing some time in Europe.

http://www.jsonline.com/blogs/lifestyle/95323979.html

http://www.cyclingnews.com/features/tibco-with-split-olympic-and-nrc-focus-in-2012

Finally, there is Craig Ethridge. Another friend of mine, he has made quite a career of messengering and racing single speed in the cyclocross world.

http://www.thebicyclestory.com/2010/11/craig-etheridge-a-world-champ-talks-messengers-and-ss-cyclocross/

That's not it at all. Craig is a good example of a messenger who competes as a messenger and also as a bike racer. Another exapmle would be Austin Horse. Austin is a New York messenger, very similar to Craig in that he competes as a bicycle courier at events around the country and at national and World messenger events, except Austin is a "sponsored" messenger and has done commercials and was a stunt double in the recent messenger film "Premium Rush." This is the way of the modern messenger, of sorts...

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/02/nyregion/the-bike-messenger-goes-hollywood-as-a-culture-dwindles.html

The sport of cycling is expensive, no doubt. And with any sport, the sacrifices make as much the champion as overcoming the challenges. I brought a lot of enthusiasm to the sport. And by that, I mean, that I had not a clue how much I was lacking in regards to all the right gear. But I showed up over and over again to the hardest, most elite group rides in Austin until I couldn't be ignored anymore. I would hang on or finally get dropped (not keeping pace with the group) on the outskirts of town and keep the group in sight until everyone made it back to town and I could catch up at stop lights. Finally someone asked me to accept some recycled gear and training advice. I was so eager and grateful.

I don't think this is very typical of most bike messengers. And all of the above individuals reflect a pursuit on the bicycle that included being a bicycle messenger. There are very valuable traits every individual learned as a messenger that allowed them to compete at a high level or attain notoriety as an accomplished athlete and a stepping stone for what these individuals needed to get where they are today.

What, you ask, are those traits? Ha! Go work as a messenger for a few months, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you!

jt

Hello from Costa Rica

HEy heY hEY!

So can you believe I made it all the way to Costa Rica without any clear directions on where I was going? I knew that I would have to take a taxi from the airport to Playa Pelada, so when I landed I hired a taxi and set off on the two and a half hour journey. It was about 11:30 by the time we rolled in and the roads had long ago gone from smooth pavement to bumpy dirt roads. My driver, Fernando, was playing some of his jams at my request cause we were both getting tired. He still had to turn around and get home to his wife and two kids. I had him drop me off at a Hotel as if I was going to get a room, but I didn't really think that was my plan so when the owner of the hotel came out because his German Shepherd was threatening to tear me to bits, I politely asked him if he knew where my friends lived. He didn't, so I set off down the road. Yea, so I'm in a third world country at midnight, walking with my luggage down the dirt road to I-don't-know-where, but I felt safe and maybe I knew the whole time that this was the part of the trip I could never plan but needed the most. Or to get this part out of the way first....

I found the internet cafe and tried their wireless network. Password required, of course. The cafe opened at ten so i knew that at the very least I could find my friends in the morning once I could get online. Someone I spoke to told me, "if worse comes to worse, man, and you don't find your friends tonight, then you sleep on the beach and we'll see you in the morning."

"which way is the beach?" i asked.

"300 meters that way."

About 100 meters away I could hear the rumble of the waves and I was pretty sure at that moment that I came to Costa Rica to try and make friends with this wild beast.

I got lucky that night with the almost full moon casting its pale light over the entire shore. Earlier in the night, there was a big ring around the moon just right above my head.




Slowly it traveled west over the ocean and was just about to fall into the water as the sun rose.




The volume and the fluctuating intensity of the waves woke me up several times and once I realized I was a little too close to the water as the tide moved in and threatened to wash me and my belongings out with it.

The next morning it was real easy to find an internet connection and see that my friends has supplied me with a telephone number, which they answered immediately. Evan had stayed up all night, worried, and Lauran had to tell him all night that she could feel I was safe. I keep comparing this trip to the other trip I took out of the country ten years ago that was purely for exploring another part of the world and how I ended up homeless in London the night before I left. That night I stayed on the River Thames all night walking up and down the river and reading my book.

The past couple of days have been what I imagine the rest of my stay here will be like: wake at 6, surf, yoga, sleep through the heat of the day, and then surf till the sun sets, eat and sleep by 10.

Pura Vida!

Revolutions

Two moons, huh?

End of 2011

Rains came
Rose bloom
It's mid December
It's not June
Don't care
Bye bye gloom
We'll sun salute
Till next moon.

Letting go

Summer, you're like an addicted lover, don't know when to quit. Your heat gets you so angry. I tell you every time I don't believe it will be better next time.

Autumn, don't one night stand me. Come lay next to me and I'll wrap myself up in new lovers (layers) for warmth.

Summer to Fall

I can't wait to show you where i got scorched.

85 degrees is the new hoodie weather.

All the swimming i did this summer i could have reached an island by now.

Next rain storm i'm shedding all my clothes.

This morning my light faded. Somehow the dark had its way of leading me on. The sliver of moon in the sky peeked from behind its shroud.

In a Day

In a day


It's 6pm. I haven't practiced yoga all day.

I slept in after I fought the sheet I sometimes covered up with, tossing and turning and blaming it for its hot grip. After ignoring my three alarms I periodically rolled out of sleep to check the time on my phone. At 8am there was a text that finally got my ass in gear. It was a friend telling me that the venue for an event I and a handful of couriers want to host our national courier race at is booked on one of the dates, but the owner wants to meet me tomorrow, he can ask and possibly get them to open up the date for us. Time to man up.

Why did I put off the practice?

I jumped on my bike cause I had to leave the hard scene I associated last night's sleep with. It's interesting when you work for yourself because in my line of work I gauge it on how much riding I do. Lately, whatever I can encourage forward with our event during the day is accomplished with emailing in between deliveries or collecting wait time or randomly running into the other couriers at a building's bike rack or the cafe. Midday I took a delivery into the comptroller guaranteeing wait time. I handed the documents to the clerk and excused myself to the bathroom. Leaving the stall, I awkwardly ran into one of the state workers who had been on the team I was in touch with in securing street closures for our courier race. I say awkward because it was obvious my stomach was angry for the Lone Stars I drank the night before, cans that accompanied the cafe work for the courier race I pounded out till I was tipsy and out of dollar bills. He received an email that morning which simply stated our resignation from the downtown course due to lack of funds. Bathroom run with the expanded reality of more than I thought getting flushed down the drain…

Finally at 3:30 I rode through the city like I rarely get to. Out to Chicon in and straight thru to Barton Hills after a drop and pickup from a handoff downtown. More waited downtown afterwards and I raced the clock like I imagine I was an orchestra conductor- Perfect timing at a rate that brings so much together but just as quickly gone.

Done with the bike and home.

Leaving my computer open with chat windows open is never a good idea when you should be doing something else especially before your class you have no plan for and you HAVENT EVEN PRACTICED YOGA. Ok. I jump on my mat and immediately get hit up. It's my friend asking about yoga. She's coming. Cool. close the chat box and get this class started. I move for 5 minutes and then instinctively get up and watch 30 minutes of the Thai yoga class Camilla taught us in Yoga Life I have saved on my laptop. I bring that to class. My friend comes to class 8 minutes early and is the only one.

"Private lesson?"
"We'll see. some people usually show up right when class starts.

By the time we start moving there are 9 people there. Definitely one of the bigger classes I've had in a while. Six of them are there in a pair. I work with my friend that chatted me earlier and she got the benefit of being the demoee as I guided everyone through both being the giver and the receiver. Lucky star. She was on her back for almost an hour as we worked on the legs and hips doing some helicopter, splits and swooshing.

We hung out afterwards and she told me the week before she had an ovarian cycst burst and there is a tumor on her ovary that she has to have removed. The last week kept her off her bike too, an outlet of movement. She said her intention that night was to relax. We might have gotten her a little closer to it :) The swooshing made her feel like all the negative energy she had was being pulled out of her.

I came home and practiced. It felt great. Night practice after a day like today has all the same elements- I collapse all over my mat but I'm sticking to this fantastic life of mine.

Cooling Off

Time to fly.

That's enough heat for now.

I know when the sweat box has sucked all the life lessons out of my body and I barely catch a glance as the water mark rapidly dissipates to vapor.

My mind, like melted wax, attempts to reform in the hours after the sun moves on to terrorize other places. Heat has penetrated everything, though, down to the core. My memory struggles to put it all back together into anything coherent. I keep a sticky note on my mirror in my bathroom reminding myself I'm not a burn victim.

Consecutive days of pedaling over the blistering asphalt moving documents, food, chihuahuas or my body across a finish line has a tendency to burn simple yet effective life lessons into my day to day experience:

1. Don't die.
2. Hurry up and wait.
3. Be the cooling element.

The one cooling element in my life has been suffering lately from overuse and lack of flow- Barton Springs. The water has even gotten murky. It's usual crystal clear water has been cloudy and in some places the bottom is not visible.

Time to go.

Fly to find coolness.

Location:Metropolis Dr,Austin,United States

Tulsa Tough Race Reporto

The 2011 Cat 1/2 edition of Tulsa Tough was everything a Wooly Mammoth looks for in a race weekend:

Tradition:
I knew of all three races offered over the weekend, my best chances at a result were on Friday night. I love me a technical course and a loud, cheering crowd on city streets is more intoxicating than the suds consumed by the tifosi all weekend. I focused all my energies into bringing home a result on the atmosphere that best suited my abilities, as is the Wooly tradition. As if the course and the pace were not enough to surmount, the best way to cross the line is to not know if you really survived or are merely projecting an image to your consciousness while your soul is wandering in the space between life and death that can only be described as….

Ultra:
It was all gonna stay together. Twenty minutes in I rolled off the front for a few. I had plans to make a last minute ditch but the opportunity to blaze around the crowd-lined course and get some live stream time for Wooly's sponsors was too tempting early on. The ultraness of the race became apparent as the sun set. Protective Indian Spirits cloaked as storm clouds began to blanket the perimeter of the course and plan a timely attack. Race promoters cut the race short in the hopes of out foxing the looming storm by slicing off five laps. Two laps to go the lightning strike and quickly answered thunder crack was intro to fat rain drops. Half a lap later, going into the last lap, the skies opened and the noise level externally was on full blast from every source. The crowd seemed amplified. The race announcer (who was amplified) began the chant, "One to GO! One to GO! One to GO!" No longer were we the flying, confident, semipro athletes our logo laced lycra advertised us to be. We were a pack of panicky kids being forced to take an unwanted ice skating lesson. The levels internally were tranquil, tho. Every pedal stroke seemed like the last option at ground touching earth. At every turn more of the peloton washed away in the quiet of the storm as it swallowed most of its victims whole, bike and rider, to appease its appetite. I crossed the line 6th. It was death, no? The rain gods had more in store for this Wooly to complete the cycle of….

Romance:
Sound Pony is the cyclist's bar in Tulsa. Saturday's race course goes right past it and it is a great place to catch all the action flying through and then watch the rest of the moves on the big screen strategically placed out front. The dance floor that night may have seen the likes of cyclists, some still in lycra and helmet, laying down moves only pro romancers are capable of. The romance became too much with one lucky Tulsa resident and the storm that, again, moved in by the Wooly supporting Indian Spirits till 5am could be a cliche comparison…

HELP!

this is the only way to keep up with things these days: an SOS email I sent a friend. Some of it may make sense and if you're close to me you know what it's all about, but I think that might only be three people and they are tired of hearing it, I'm sure.

Gonna go build up a bike now. Hopefully I have all the parts...

Tulsa was last weekend. Friday nite storming to 6th, Saturday Soundpony dance party extending the night till almost sunrise and Sunday Crybaby Hill. What a great time. Now, I'm gonna hang up the race wheels (not as long this time) and throw some parties.

Begin transmission:

Patrizio,

I am in need of your assistance if you are up for it.

We are throwing a Tour de France launch party with Mellow Johnny's on July 2nd. The party will include an "uphill" team time trial in the spirit of le Tour. I got the State of Texas to donate one of the parking garages across the street from the Comptrollers Office at 17th and San Jacinto. At the top there is a perfect view of the Capitol on one side and the UT stadium on the other. It should be a lot of fun and each team will have one or two riders handicapped with a non-race bike that we will provide them with. This is to keep things fun and not too serious and hopefully attendees will include a wide demographic of cyclists and everyone will have a shot at winning.

Back at Mellow Johnny's, we will have a podium ceremony, food and beverages and the first stage of the Tour will be screening.

This is where I need your help. We have a "maybe" from ____ for food but it didn't sound promising. I am nervous that if I am not proactive then I will be scrambling at the last minute to cater food for 250 people that are expected to show up and support our fundraiser. Because this is a fundraiser, we are trying to get food donated but if we have to pay for it then we will. At this point we have only the little bit of money we raised at the first NACCC fundraiser minus filing fees we've paid the city for street closures. The hunt for title sponsors is on full throttle but nothing yet. I'm only mildly discouraged at this point but looking ahead and planning for the best.

Would you be willing to ask Roberto from _____ to help provide food for our party? if not, could you do an email (re)introduction so I can ask. We've met before and I am pretty sure he remembers me but I am hoping that riding in on your coattails will strike a more personal chord with him and at this point I need to start hearing some "yes's" before I auction off one of my chihuahuas to get this party supplied.

Thanks my man and I hope all is well. Also, if you have any ideas for a podium ceremony al a Tour, please drop it on a note you shout back at me with, I'll probably love it and make it happen.

I'll leave you with this story of something that happened to me yesterday:

I had just left Bird's on 6th, tightening up the Euro mullet and walked past a bum passed out on the sidewalk near the corner at Waller. I didn't see the rise and fall of his chest to signify breathing so I turned back and was like,

"Hey! Are you OK?"

"Huh? yea." He crackled almost inaudibly.

"Well will you get off the ground and sit at the bench so I believe you?"

That's when I noticed dried blood on the side of his face. He started to get up and I continued, "Do you want me to call an ambulance for you?"

"Will you?" What a waste, I think I may have thought. But still I pulled my phone out and dialed. EMS asked me some questions and I relayed the questions and was informed that he had had a seizure. I felt mildly ashamed at my first thoughts but glad I stopped to help out.

Within minutes EMS, AFD and APD were on the scene. I didn't know if I was needed anymore so I started to walk on the perimeter of this now "save a life" scene. An officer looked over and asked if I was the one who called and I said yea. I explained what happened and she just nodded. AFD were talking to him about his seizures and just as I was about to leave someone called my name. I looked over and it was Mason O'Neal. He had rubber gloves on and he gave a quick fist punch and then moved in to help this guy out.

For some reason I felt real good then. I thought of you, man. I'm real happy for you and I hope to get a chance to visit when things settle down.

Take care,

JT

Applause

before my restorative yoga class at Mellow Johnny's, I clear the space and get a little practice in for myself. Yesterday was no different. Batman busied himself with checking out all the latest lint on the floor while I opened up the body after a day of deliveries that simulated hill repeats and stop/starts.

step into lunge
back foot moves in, drop the heel, straighten the front leg

and fold......

Parsvottanasana. five breaths and I know where to go next:

back foot lifts:
standing splits.

I got my hands on the ground and my lifted heel kicks up:

handstand
and I start counting breaths. I almost always hold my breath in a handstand cause its too hard to do anything else. this time, i just float, listen as the labored inhale seeps out as the exhale is an afterthought. and this is playing in my head space:



Finally I come down and over the blare of my headphones I hear the distant sound of applause.

My longest handstand to date had an audience and they saw the whole thing. Not only that, they applauded my effort. I look over to see




Batman, my 5lb Chihuahau, walking in my direction. He sat quietly the entire time i floated and soon as I came down shook the effort to sit still, causing his collar and tags to clank together and sound like applause. He walked over bashfully wanting to congratulate me with a wag of his tail, which for his size means his whole bottom half sways back and forth, and a lick.

Gratitude.

Take this with you

I feel like sometimes I know exactly what's missing and I focus all my energy on it as a lacking...

O man, to be vulnerable in the presence of that unattainable is worth losing over and over again. If patterns represent the grooves we've carved in our brains, I'm walking down an old path. Or possibly I've seen scenery like this somewhere and I've made a connection to sometime long ago that takes me back or threw me again off track.

But beyond knowing is a concentration of every experience I've tried to horde, garnish or strengthen myself with. Tho it always seems with so much effort, at the center, it's just me. I smell my skin and see myself at age 9 and I see myself going head first, heart abandoned into my purpose everytime. For the record, i still have not a clue what that purpose is exactly. Sometimes, I'm...
Most of the time....
Always I think it's love and then I think, "what a lovely idea." and I'm only willing to work at something long enough before it's apparent I need to move on.

But as every path revisited (hopefully whatever dead end you hit last time is a simple obstacle this time around)- the tracks we make become part of the scenery. And if I stand here for just a bit-

I become the scene.

I am the center of it.

In a day

Forward reflecting




Lunch breaking




Elevator elevating




Knowing what you're thinking

Location:Congress Ave,Austin,United States

Dear Mama

It's my mom's 49th birthday and she loves 2Pac and I got these rhymes so I wrote this for the occasion:

Dear Mama,

Growing up with this chip on my shoulder
But now I'm growing older
I dont wanna wake up one day and say I shoulda told her
Try and live without regrets
And I'll never forget
Mornings I wept
Crying for my mom cause she left
Ain't no 9-5
When it's do or die
Single mom
waitress' salary
And there's four pair of eyes
I'm sure you asked yourself why?
I know there were so many bad days and pain
I ain't trying to bring up old shit I'm just sayin
I'm amazed at how u did it again and again
Buying me a clarinet
Barely making rent
Pushing me to be better than where we came from
When it comes to people I'd die for, your the only one.
But that's a long ways away and I know you'd never ask
Cause raising us, you always put yourself last.
Well it's your time to shine
And the hard times, they're in the past
Your little boys are men
And I'm going after that cash
So I can get us those things we never had growin up
When we get to heaven we all showing up
Life worked hard, lived well and loved enough
Believe me, I'll take u in when life's too tough
Cause you gave up your life for me
And the least I can do is be the man you raised me to be
Want you to be there when I have my own family
But right now its my turn to struggle
And make flowers bloom from the rubble
So on your birthday, let me take you by the hand
And my plan is to show you that i understand
You are appreciated

Happy Birthday, Mama!

A Brief....

if you ever had to file one of these things at the courthouse, you know they are anything but....

here it goes; I'll try and give you the condensed version of the haps...

A summer of treacherous 2hr astanga practice before the sun rose resulted in one of the best Falls ive had. plus, the weather in austin has been magnificent. i've only mysore'd once since september and it was last week after a private lesson i taught at my house. first time i experienced softening in astanga!

well, i put the yoga practice on vacation so i could let my teaching skills catch up. I been teaching three public classes a week and lately a couple private lessons a week too. Dane's Body Shop and Mellow Johnny's are all classes I got started and are donation based classes. I sometimes teach to an empty room but that little kid inside that screams "save the world!!" has a new toy. Some of the things that come up while I'm teaching are just like the shit that can come up while on the mat as a practitioner . Except, as the teacher I find myself asking, "do i really believe that?" to something i just said. its cool to let myself believe some universal things are floating around up there.

I should also mention that writing yoga sequences is how I try and be a crafty poet these days. call it a new found focus on love for All equalling love for the One or just reliving my high school days when i wrote sappy poetry for the school newspaper: this, i know is the alchemy in yoga asana, infused into my body by Lauran Janes, and how it can reach an entire room of yogis and yogins of differing abilities. everyone has the tools to come closer to alignment...

trying to be brief...

its December and Batman and I have been at the cafe for the last couple of hours enjoying the sunny 70's but the sun is beginning to set finally. wish you could feel it...

Guess i should also mention that I'm back on the bike, riding for a new team, Wooly Mammoth, started by my friend, Patrick Newell. Patrick has been a bike messenger about a year longer than I, and we recently laid down firearms aimed at each other's faces to race and work together. Oh, yea, my company, Beat the Clock, hired our first riders last week! Welcome Patrick and Danny, two guys that compliment the handsome hustling skills of Ian and I. Last week was huge, kinda like starting all over again. But on Friday, when all four of us were banging out orders, I had the feeling that now we are the only ones who will get in the way of our success.

Its a long road and its far from over but im finally not trying to be anywhere, just really caught up enjoying the ride.

whuts knew?

.....is all thats known......

when you practice at putting your life together viscerally daily, you gotta start wondering when it happens in every other paradigm. or if your like me, you start to live the dynamics of both ends. find ground at 6am with 2hr asana and then 2:30am float out the club; sweat-soaked, heart spoke she said she seen it all i said no you didnt.

MoonDay

rooftop sunset
always facing west
movement suggests
a beautiful death
summer storm
somewhere over there
full moon
foolish man
lone star can
guide a heart to bloom

Summer Crew

Welcome back, Legolas. Law school will help you argue with the clerks when they won't file yo shit. Get to work, Egi.







PNew. My one time arch nemesis. I now live vicariously through his racing season.







(L-R) Ben, PNew, Egi, Legolas, Tyrone, Parind (groupie). At Little City






All eyes on DMak and his clean whip

I'm missing a few folk, like the Corporate duo and I wanna get one of Kate (even tho she's leaving and won't officially be part of the summer crew).

Things are shaping up for NACCCs in Atlanta. ATX reprazent!

Dream When We Wake

Slept downstairs lastnight. I usually do that this time of year; prolongs not having to turn on the A/C. Windows wide, door open, ceiling fan spinning- it's almost like camping.

About 3am I awoke and immediately got up and turned on the oven. No lights- I just turned knobs. I opened the fridge and grabbed my pack of tortillas, took one out, and placed it on a cookie sheet- top shelf of the oven.

Then I went back to sleep and fell into a dream....

I was riding my bike and about to blow a stop sign when I noticed a cyclist, waiting at the same stop sign, sticking their knee out as if to prevent me from rolling right thru. I snaked around, looked back to give a "nice try" look and was struck by the beauty of my would-be road blocker.

I stopped.

"actually I do want to stop with you," I began. We rode and our conversation went something like actions and their effect on reaching a more purposeful you....

Awake.

Downstairs on my futon. Instinctually I got up wondering if the tortilla was part of the dream as there was no smell and I didn't notice the stove light on. In the darkness, I switched the stove knobs off (it was on!), opened the oven door and reache inside. I pulled out a roasted to perfection, golden brown, crispy tortilla. I took it back to bed with me and, fueled with the nourishment of my dream, crunched on my tortilla till I drifted back to sleep....