Goat Justice League prevails

When I read about this group I thought it was some offshoot from the Superfriends Hall of Justice. Whether they wear capes or not, they've cleared the way for me to have cute little goat friends at my home in Seattle. Just like the GJL's president, I could have half a gallon of fresh goat milk every day and make goat cheese while all the little buggers care about is eating negligent landscaping.


Now if I could just get out of my condo and into a residential address I'd be all set. Seattle Tilth is planning goat husbandry classes so I'll take this one step at a time. Goat cheese and wine party coming soon!!

Smells like cross season

My words of the day: "Not being able to race BLOWS." We went to watch Starcrossed last night and my muscles started to quiver and my legs wanted to chase people down, but I was in Keens and jeans so that wasn't going to happen. It also sucked to hear stories from fellow racers who have moved up to Cat 3 this year, racers that I was easily beating before on a singlespeed. It's like being in school and being held back. The class you were supposed to graduate with is proceeding as usual and you're hanging with the slow kids who pick their nose. I've toyed with the idea of building my base back up for a few months and then doing a few cross races at the end of the season (when everyone else is tired! brilliant tactic!), but in Reality Land that's just a day dreaming fantasy and not terribly smart. But hell, who doesn't want to be part of a racing community that's all about mud, cold, rain, beer, and utter insanity? That in itself is reason to get out of bed on a Sunday morning and challenge everything safe and normal.

Otherwise, it's freakin' cold out there, summer has officially checked out and it smells even more like snow is in the air. Hopefully that's on tap because Zack just got his second pair of tele skis in a week so the boy needs something to ride them on. I'm eager to take out my pretty blue tele skis again after a year off (note: never ever lose track of other interests in racing's off season). My goal this year is to deftly negotiate blue runs without feeling like I'm jumping off a skyscraper.

Our team is looking mighty fine for the 2008 season. We've snagged one girl from another team and recruited two magnanimous ladies who have never raced before, but have their own stellar athletic backgrounds. Little things like, oh I dunno, mountain climbing and Olympic-class rowing. And best of all they smile like the sun and laugh a lot, which goes a long way when the season has such huge ups and downs and it's all about having fun on bikes, right? The girls on our Sick & Injured List are almost done licking their wounds and laying down plans for winter training to show up in the spring to make up for a long, lost season. That in itself will add 5 of us to the lineup! That's half of our 2007 team!

I'm off to pull on my wool knickers and go for a ride. One day closer to charging out of the gate.

Taking a step back

I want everyone to get along.
I want everyone to be nice to each other.
I want people to smile more.
I want kids to be able to ride their bicycles anywhere in town without fear.
I want people to live a wonderful life full of stories and adventure and die of old age.

I don't want to see anger.
I don't want to see hate.
I don't want to see death at a young age.
I don't want to see sadness.

Somewhere not long ago, I caught sight of a small bumper sticker that said in simple block lettering, "Love Wins", when I needed to see it most. I still want to believe that it does win through all the grief that permeates most days.

But it starts with one person, and I think today it starts with me.

And tomorrow it will start with you.

Guacamole in the desert

Burning Man was a most awesome event and I can't recommend it more highly enough. I was pretty amazed by how much there is to do no matter who you are or what your interests are. I thought that I'd be overwhelmed by living so closely with 40k people (and the portapotties to support them), but the desert can swallow up their cacophony pretty well and leave you with plenty of solace. Best of all, bikes are everywhere and the only real way to get around. You ride your bike to the loo, to the playa, to go dancing, to get ice, to check out other camps, and to get away from it all. The bikes are decorated in the silliest of outfits, like Halloween for a whole week. If only the outside world would adopt such traditions it would make the day-to-day doldrums pretty fun.



I fell in love with a few pieces of art, such as Crude Awakening, a large sculpture with metal figures giving praise to a full-scale oil derrick. On Saturday night they blew the derrick up in what was figured to be the largest non-military propane explosion (blowing shit up is BIG fun down there), then let it burn to the ground. Most people left the exhibition at that, but the next morning as I ventured out on my bike I saw a sight across the playa that literally brought tears to my eyes: among the ashes of the derrick the artists were placing a 50ft living sequoia tree. The humanoid sculptures, black and scarred from the previous night's explosion, were now praying to the tree. Just brilliant to see.



We drove through central Oregon to get down there, which is one of the most scenic places I've ever seen. On the way home we stayed one night at the Summer Lake hot springs where we enjoyed our first real cleanse and slept under the stars, free of rambling art cars playing techno and sand encrusting your pillow. As the sun began to lighten the sky we woke up to coyotes howling and it was one of those moments when you take a picture with your mind and hold on to it forever.



Most of all, I took back memories of a community where there are none of society's class structure, where everyone is equal and helps each other succeed and to enjoy their experience. You walk down the street and everyone says Hi, or you're welcomed to drop into someone's camp and just strike up a conversation. I met more scientists, intellectuals, and thinkers this week than in 30some years of riding my bike around and not really talking to anyone. The good news is that they're infiltrating much of the outside world and once you've been to the desert you can't help but want to bring its influences back with you.