feeling huge, cookie style

This is definitely the year of christmas cookies/brownies/candy. I should never agree to do any racing in early January. The holidays are just to sickly sweet and calorie-rich. That coupled with my complete inability to ride outside has left me with the feeling that all my muscle mass has been replaced by chocolate and butter. Doesn't help that my self control is non-existent in this arena. I don't eat a cookie. I eat every single morsel in sight. At once.

This inspired me to ride to the gym yesterday instead of driving, which I probably shouldn't have:

That was fun.

There's a new Suberbike in town. Project '10 ("turning it up to 11"). Eric spent a few weeks with his machines and torches, trapped in a loop of ultra-heavy metal, and this is what crawled out of the bog when he finished.



Blacker than the blackest black. Times infinity.


Aaron wishes he could ride something so scary.


The Euro Sixes are an extremely flashy affair, so the bikes got a bit of sparkle to finish them off.

Actually they got a bucket of sparkle. Sparkle Motion.

And now for something non bike-related.
Found this gem a few days ago, the new video from Auckland/Portland's Mint Chicks. So strange I feel like a epileptic fit's coming on about halfway through, but can't turn away.

Don't Sell Your Brain Out, Baby (censored version) from Mint Chicks on Vimeo.

Sweet dreams.

DT

Hey SHOEMAKERS

Sooo. DMT? Nike? Any chance you guys could bring the heaviness in the form of SPD-soled wingtips? Like this?



And if you do decide to one-up those cheese-fiends from the big red B, I wear a 45.

DT

WARNING: COMPLAINING AHEAD

I try not to complain too much on this thing. I hate self-important behavior, but I thought I'd update the few who still read this space in the winter.

Very edgy lately. Sleep isn't coming easily and my nerves are iffy at best. The snow and ice in Colorado has cut my training down to gym work and trainer rides for the entirety of December. November was a coach-mandated month off, so the combination isn't doing great things for my speed going into Rotterdam. In short: I'm slow.

I'm doing what I can, but when I meet with the velodrome director and he says that there is "no way in hell" that I'll be able to get on the track even once before takeoff, it's frustrating. It validates every reason I have for moving away from here, away from the federation and the olympic committee and all their political pissing matches with each other and the athletes they are supposed to be helping. I'll take the rain if I can at least ride! One month before a major international competition and I'm informed that alarms will ring and security will be dispatched if I jump the fence and try to do a workout on the dry, ice free, empty velodrome.

So I do what I can. Trainer rides. Weight lifting. The track in Boulder is utterly useless for any sprint efforts, so I do fixed gear road rides on days when the temps are above freezing. Hope for good flat-tire luck on the gravel-covered roads and hope there's not ice in that blind corner coming up. Fight the cars who think I should be riding all the way over on the shoulder in the snow drifts. Get it done, do the work and get to Europe and back to where I can do what I love under the lights.

Zesdaage Rotterdam

LANDROVER ORBEA_GENESIS from monster vs. robot inc. on Vimeo.