Browsing Category

Ride Reports


VIEW POST

View more
Ride Reports

Rebecca’s Private Idaho: This Cowgirl’s Poem

on
October 4, 2014

There once was a Queen in Idaho
With a penchant for pain, well dontcha know
She put on a race
With gravelly high pace
And we all fell apart like weak so-and-sos.

There’s poetry to riding a bicycle. A rhythm. A tempo. The percussion of the chain as it reverbs over terrain, the…


VIEW POST

View more
Epic Rides Ride Reports

Common colds and carbonated beverages

on
July 31, 2014

Sick of it. Sick of riding my bike. Just sick of it. Probably not the best frame of mind to be in, a week out from The Death Ride. The Death Ride, aka The Tour of the California Alps, aka The 100% Surefire Way to Enrage a Saddle Sore…


VIEW POST

View more
Dirty Kanza Ride Reports

Dirty Kanza 200: A Meditation on Self

on
June 10, 2014

You. You are a frivolous person. A frivolous person with frivolous thoughts that spin and cartwheel on the front lawn of your mind. Legs flinging, knees bent, your thoughts less perfect with each rotation. Less complete and full.

This gravel is onto you. It’s not stupid. It sees your nerves…


VIEW POST

View more
Ride Reports

Rebecca’s Private Idaho

on
September 12, 2013

Prologue: Sixtyish mile mark, time unknown
A crunch of gravel, the sharp ting of small stones against bike underbellies, projectile vomited there by irritated and belligerent tires. Bottles rattle in cages. Skeletons vibrate like tuning forks in our soft, beaten bodies. In the key of E-ouch.

“Hey,” I say, looking over…


VIEW POST

View more
Ride Reports

Solvang Autumn Double Ride Report

on
October 20, 2012

My eyes can’t tell my brain about anything it reads that sounds right on the cusp of being a dumb idea, because that’s JUST the kind of thing my brain goes for.

Case in point: My eyes stumble across the words ‘double century’ somewhere – on the twitter wire maybe…


VIEW POST

View more
Ride Reports

The Insanity of Suffering

on
March 21, 2012

I am rolling down a fast, long stretch of wooded downhill on Smith Grade. Flying. Air, chilled by the shade and eager to flash by my ears, whistles through spokes and dries a salty sweat crust on my face.

Empire Grade put that crust there, with its long slog of…

Janeen McCrae
Santa Cruz, CA

Writer. Rider. This is where I collect the fruits of those two things.

Widget Area

This section is widgetized. To add widgets here, go to the Widgets panel in your WordPress admin, and add the widgets you would like to Blog Sidebar.

*This message will be overwritten after widgets have been added