Now....Do This.

Wow...it's like I completely forget I have a blog that I should write on. I'd like to say it's because I've been so busy at work this past month, which is half true. The other half of my February looked like this...(in absolutely no given order cause I can't remember how last month happened at all)

{There was a "beer release"}

{a dirty chain}


{I went to NAHBs and hung out with people way cooler than me}


{This was the coolest thing I saw at NAHBs}

{Learned to NOT leave my phone unattended}

{this looked like a great place to party}

{Damage CornDog can do to you}

{This CornDog...}

{Raleigh's past and present}

{It's not my Snuggie...but it did in a pinch}

{If you find yourself in Telluride...tell'em Sally sent ya}

{Sure fire way to win DFL with a CornDog in hand}

{Yeah...whatever}

{I do remember that this was rather early...with a CornDog}

{Valentine's day was quite romatic}

{I don't spend all my time on bikes and bar stools}

{Valentines day was dirty...but not in the way I wanted it to be}

{The shit!}

{If I seem a little "special"....it's the company I keep}

{Will you be mine?}

{I really wish I could remember how I got Cheese Food in my bag}

Anyway, the point of the whole thing is to say....If you're in Seattle, swing by the show. If you can guess what the "flavor of the morning" is that's on my breath...I'll give ya something.

Do This...

On Saturday....No outlandish Gold Sprint challenge will be refused.

Then on Monday...do this....

No outlandish Corn Dog related offense will be turned away.

And as a general heads up to everyone...

The Narwhal is the new Unicorn.

"If You're Going to Fall Off a Wagon..."

"try and break something on your way down"

Here's my advice for the day...the best way to get rid of a Tequila Hangover should not involve...

a) Enough Beer choke a donkey

b) National Champ and World Champ Skinsuits

c) Shoving beers into said skinsuits because they don't have pockets

d) Tater Tot handups at the beginning of a Mountain Bike Time Trial.

e) Cramming a fist full of said Tater Tots into a racers helmet

f) Karaoke duets with no karaoke machine.

g) Diner party with the Wax On Staff...no waxings were performed...except poetically...with wine.

h) Ducking out of the party for some Bourbon to wash away the wine and wax talk.

i) A firework...not fireworks...one firework.

The only exception to this is...

a) have good friends who can accomplish this all of this over the span of 14 hours and not blow off their fingers with the lone firework.

I don't feel guilty...at all

I have heard about the epic cold lingering in the Plains.

I've seen pictures of people in California freaking out about rain.

I read tweets every morning about how cold it is here, how much snow they have there, how they haven't seen the sun in...days.

And all the while...I've been smiling to myself as I've been riding into work with out a fender.

I've been wearing my Carhart's without fear.

The birds have been chirping.

There are blossoms on the trees already.

I've been ducking out of work and clocking some of the most unusually warm January rides ever this past week. And this morning was no exception as I took a longer route into the Raleigh MotherShip.

This has not been a typical week of riding. Every pedal stroke dances into the next. I've relished the lone tears being the only moisture on my face from my wind burned eyes. The early spring scents have drunkenly filled my olfactory with memories.

There's still some daylight that I need to enjoy.

The Journey...

of a thousand blogs begins with a single post.


I've been wanting to....but haven't.

I've been taking pictures...but keeping them to myself.

I've got words...I haven't been putting them down.

I've got miles...they've been by myself.

I've got ideas...but been afraid of criticism.

I'm on the road...but no idea where I'm going.

I've been sober...soooo boring.


So I present to you this humble offering in the hope that it will get the wheels turning again.

{The Unicorns : Show Poster circa 2004}

Dear Lord,

It's me...Sally.
I'll never ask anything from you ever again...if you could PLEASE stop pictures from SSCXWC from showing up on the Internet.
Thank you.

{Boy do I know how to debate!}

{it felt this trippy...}

{when they say run up...they mean it}

{I can still hear this body slam when I close my eyes}

{ummmmmm....yeah.....}

{Enouragement for the ladies?}

My good friend (????) Kelsey is responsible for ALL of this. You can see more pictures and his write up here or if your smart...you'll skip that debauchery and check out his amazing book Kwa Zulu and place an order.

Five On Each

In a previous life I was a USA Cycling Team mechanic.
Specifically, Iwas the US National Sprint Team mechanic.

I was the guy at the Velodrome 2 hours before everyone else, and 2 hours after everyone left.
I was the guy who set up the pit area. Hauling in (and out) all the tools, rollers, wheels, and necessary equipment needed by hand. Everyday.
I was the guy pumping up 20 sets of tires to 180psi, everyday, one handed, by myself. (no one has made a pump 'chuck' yet that'll stay on by itself at that pressure)
I often spent hours working on a bike...for 10 seconds of racing.
I was the guy gluing tires till 3am. Glue in one hand. Beer in the other. Glazed look on my face provided by all three.
I was an international traveler and a master of getting through customs with 20 pieces of checked baggage.
I kept an extra bag at my apartment that was pre-packed and ready to go out the door as soon as I walked in.
I had the stamina of Semi-Truck driver all goofed up on Amphetamines as I drove bikes across the country to the next race.
I was a friend.
I was a "soccer mom" to the athletes because I had the keys to the only vehicle where ever we went.
I was a villain.
I took verbal lashings for no other reason than "I was there".
I endured the stress of knowing a lifetime of training and dreams could be undone in the fraction of a second if something broke.

In 2 1/2 years I helped riders obtain National, World Championship, and Olympic titles.
After 2 1/2 years, I walked away with all of my fingers.