- 4October 11, 2013
The lean angular prose of Sean Kelly’s autobiography makes it almost seem as if you have sat down at a pub with him for a chat. Extraordinary accomplishments are offered with a humility that never seems false or fake, and the mundane details are just the ones a fan of cycling history would want.
- September 25, 2013
The plan is to follow a dirt path through the Bronx up to Westchester County on single and double track, bursts of trash and glass and chainlink glimpses. The neither illusion of it, of shrushing through the woods half a veil alongside the brick iron concrete knowledge of where we are, and that seesaw, not a countryside ride, not through hyper built spaces.
- 6November 18, 2011
I did not want to go to Cusco and backtrack, nor did I find the usual way aesthetically appealing at all. I contemplated skipping it altogether.
- 3November 24, 2010
We were simultaneously conceiving and articulating and inventing the constraints of our ambitions, our florid naivete and ignorance so deep that it swallowed even the possibility of a suspicion that there were crucial things we didn’t know.
- 5August 22, 2009
In 2006 and 2007 I raced road and mountain bikes in Pakistan, first as a member of an American team and then on a Canadian/American composite team. The races were to keep world attention on the devastating earthquake that struck the north of the country on 8 October 2005.
- April 2, 2012
Tremble frigid, but thinking it in unfluid blocks stumbles far short of the cutting, the blades in your lungs, the warning away pain and strain in moving such that a warm pocket in your clothes might bellows inhale the cold. Exit the car when there is enough activity to confirm ten minutes to go, now at the start line with skiers and fidgety runners, distracted distraction joke with Parsons and Jill and Aedmo, but a little closed the way it always is before a race, even one that you didn’t conceptualize as it but instead as something perpendicular with a built in urgency…
- January 15, 2012
A long climb at the end of a long day. You knew it was coming, thought about stopping just before it and tackling it fresh in the morning but there are more hours of daylight so you accept the slopes. You left at maybe nine, it’s eight forty five. A half hour for lunch, a few chats, 20 minutes sitting in the early evening just to listen to the sounds. After a steep loose wet switchback you stop, you’re trembling but it’s not cold, in fact you’re sweating arms slick. But it’s colder than you think, your piss is steaming. And your breath. You’re in no danger of falling down really but you’re unsteady on your feet straddling the bike, your legs, not now turning, ache and are slow, unwilling to tense…
- November 16, 2011
I have two hand-drawn maps, one on paper towel, one on a child’s ruled notebook paper, reassuringly they agree in spite of their wildly divergent styles, I memorized them over dinner last night…
- October 3, 2011
You walk in, there are four or five tables. You don’t necessarily get your own, you just find an open spot, perhaps people rotate around and bring in a chair to make room for you…
- January 31, 2011
I arrived in Cairo, a lone cyclist pedaling into a metropolis, on the evening of 28 January, 2011 at the end of a tour of the western oasis circuit from Luxor. From the warnings of local contacts I knew that I should keep vigilant. The city — indeed much of Egypt — was rising to a new pitch in the protest against the government. Today, Friday, a day off work and a day of consultation after prayer, was expected to be a turning point, and it was. By now the world knows of the events on that day from television images of burning and overturned police tactical vehicles, teargas braving mobs, rocks against rubber bullets and water canons, allegations of live fire in some cases, and tanks rolling across urban bridges and through downtown streets…
- December 30, 2010
Wonderful Syria. Not a place to visit for landscapes — the grueling yellow stony kilometers in between gain no purchase on my affection — but the people, the cities, the history, the archeological sites. Kindness and openness…
- December 8, 2009
Holy shit, went to a wedding last night, and it was insane and wonderful. Three of us — Sunil, his cousin, and I (Raju had to work) — took a cycle rickshaw uptown, stopping on the way due to the incredibly dense traffic and to get beetlenut. Of course, my mouth immediately filled with blood red saliva…