Not only has she been racing cross for the first time this year... she's been doing it on a massivly heavy mountain bike. Better yet, all the races she's done so far have been slog fests. Meaning: mud, muck, and glop that makes her bike 10x heavier.
This past weekend at PIR, she was doing really well.... but going into the last lap her chain had a malfunction. She pulled over to the side of the course and fiddled with it for like five minutes before saying f'it... I'm running with it. In this time sadly, the rest of the field still racing passed her. But rather than give up, she started running with the bike... pushing that heavy bastard alongside her for a mile plus.
The last set of barriers were also on a muddy slippery run up. So, not only did she have to haul her bike up this mucky slope, but she had to pick it up and hoist it up over the barriers. Sam may have been the last one to cross the line for the women's beginner category on Sunday, but she wasn't in last place. As well... she gained the love of everyone who saw her tramp with her bike through the sludge. I give her mad props for finishing the race and not just throwing the bike off to the side of the course and look for the closest beer tent. No, she waited till after she crossed the finish line to do that. Way to go babe.
And... Burk Webbmade an awesome video of the race last weekend featuring Sam at :42 seconds. It was shot as she lifted her bike over the last barrier and then pushed it up the hill. Her face is priceless...
It's that time again my friends... time for seasonal record playing! Basically, my buds at the Buzz About wanted to know what albums have been getting heavy rotation on my ipod this fall and in no particular order... here they are.
This album is the ying to my yang. It's a little more poppy than some of the music I find myself returning to over and over, but I can't help it... I love Lissie. This album is a little different than her earlier releases with some tracks like Stranger having a little more of a 60's swinging vibe. If that's not your jam it may throw you off a little, but don't worry - Lissie comes back into her own with tracks like Bully, In Sleep and When I'm Alone. Overall, a perfectly good album to whittle away the days of pumpkin carving and spiced cider.
Okay okay.... so this album came out late spring of this year, but I can't think of any more time of year when its songs are more apropos than fall, especially with titles like Song for November, Hangman and imagery like haunted barns and sinking ships. This is one album that when no one else is around, I blast at full tilt... letting all the feeling and emotion from Chris's music just seep in. As opposed to her earlier albums, Chris is playing with a full band on this one and it helps adds a darker, more dynamic sound that really pushes a musical threshold doubled with lyrics that can just cut right through you. I could listen to this or any thing Chris has released for that matter, every day and never grow tired of it. Favorite track from this album: Shipwreck.
I first ran across this amazing five piece band out of Seattle last month when they opened up for Fences at Mississippi Studios here in Portland. Normally, the opening band on a bill has the smaller audience... so I was thinking that I could arrive right about show time and stand towards the front with no problem at all. And boy... I was wrong on all accounts. Seriously, the venue was packed for these guys (and gal) and I mean... people came for THEM - it didn't take too long to see why. Bright, poppy, catching, with highs and lows and dramatic climaxes to songs that keep you coming back for more, throw in a florish of instruments and a dash of Americana... and you've got yourself a pretty amazingly new band to delight your head and your heart with. I hardly ever buy a CD at a show... but I loved these guys so much I walked out with their CD in hand. It's been on heavy rotation ever since. My two favorite tracks are: Down in the Valley & Lost in My Mind.
To start off, I've been a fan of Fences/Chris Mansfield for a while. Maybe it's because he cut his teeth with the material for his new album (produced by Sara Quin... you know, from Tegan and Sara) for a bit up and down the PNW coast and I saw them pretty much every chance I got. So, to hear the material that I've listened to and watched live come to full fruition on a disc, it's pretty sweet. Especially when you layer in some Sara singing background vocals in songs like: My Girl the Horse. Aside from the song "Girls With Accents" I'd suggest that you not listen to Fences when you want to get pumped for an evening out on the town... it's best to stick with the Lady GaGa for that, but when you want to listen to an album and really feel the music, pop in Fences self titled debut album. Expect to hear a lot more from him.
Granted, their album Infinite Arms came out this early summer, but I've just now recently gotten around to digesting them. Maybe it's the slower pace of fall and desire to listen to more layered sounds, like burying myself under blankets and sweaters to keep out the on coming cold, this album and the whole BOH discography are racking up the play counts on my itunes. My favorite from the new album is: On My Way Back Home.
I've found that in my first short year of racing cross thus far... that I'll come back home and either love it or hate it. And sadly, most of that feeling is regulated to what the course was like. For example, if there were lots of barriers, hills or places of thick mud that required getting off my bike and running with it for a few miles (aka: basically, any thing that required me to get off my bike) I hated the race. On the other hand though, if it was flatter or drier or had less barriers (aka: basically, anything that required me to get off my bike less)... I loved it. And well, the Cross Crusade #4 at PIR fell in to the later category of love.
As one person said afterwards... "This course was all about power" and I totally agree. The places on the course where you had to get off the bike (a massive run-up with barriers in the middle and a concrete platform) everyone had to get off the bike. There was none of that "I love climbing hills so I rule" mentality to the race nor did it favor those who remount quickly. I felt like the course was a great equalizer, it pretty much came down to how quickly you pedaled through the slop and how consistent you were... it came down to riding your bike... not running with it. And for once, I found myself on the winning end of the spectrum. I for the record, am not a tactical rider... I do well when I can hustle and when I can ride my bike, not just steer it. I mean, granted, it's not like I won the race or anything, it's not like I placed top ten or anything... just that for the first time ever I think I passed more people than passed me. And for someone who has been coming in "just well enough to not get cut" at most of my races, it felt pretty damn good. It felt pretty damn good to pass people I normally only see at the start line and then again at the finish. It felt good to hear people cheering for the people in front of me... and then on the next lap - they are cheering for the people behind me.
And yeah, the course was wet - wet and muddy. It rained shit loads before, during and after the race. In fact, there were several pot holes and mud puddles out there disguised as swimming pools. They were so deep that my feet kicked through the water to get a full pedal stroke in. The spray from the water soaking through the back of my kit and filling my chammy with a little flood of moistness (delightful I tell you). My eyes filled up with mud so many times that at points I was riding a little blind, but I figured it was better than trying to clean mud off of glasses. I wiped out once really early in the race, a few folks passed me and I was trying to get back on the horse... but at least I got that "oh no... I am getting muddy!" thing out of the way.
Basically though, I rode my single speed on Sunday like it was a track bike... meaning, I just kept pedaling the whole time. No slowing down, no stopping. I was moving in a positive forward motion with the intent on passing as many people as I could in front of me the whole race. On your left, on your right, in the middle, nice socks, coming through.
Well, if it wasn't about Denver... what in the hell was it about?
Family. Family and the Cincinnati Reds.
You know that part where I said road trips were kinda fun?... well, for the first 10 hours they are. But then, when you realize you've still got 10 more hours of driving ahead of you, you start to get a little discouraged.
I spent more time in the car getting to Denver than I actually spent in Denver. It's pretty sad really.
Luckily though, stopping at New Belgium Brewery in Ft Collins CO helped ease some of the boredom I call Wyoming. Having little sampler of Ranger IPA was like a little silver lining at the end of a long....dull... brown cloud.
Also, who can complain when they have traveling companions as good as these?
So... pretty much long story short... I have a cousin that I haven't seen in ages who lives in Denver and was getting married. The whole extended family was going to be there, including my parents who live in Ohio. When you live in places like Ohio, you start thinking that the whole west is so closely connected and the possibility that someone can just drive... from, I don't know... Oregon to Colorado for the weekend seems like a reasonable thing. So, if you can get that to happen, well... you might as well throw some things in the car to give that person making the long drive to sweeten the deal.
(For example, my mom threw in my Ronald McDonald phone that I won when I was 3yrs old. Thanks mom)
(and my baseball card collection...)
The biggest sweetener though, was a pair of stadium seats from the Cincinnati Reds Crosley Field. My grandparents received them after the stadium was torn down in 1970. While I was growing up and would visit them out in rural Clinton County, I'd see the seats sitting in some back dark corner of the garage. The red C emblazoned on the side let me know they were more than just decorative objects, they were a treasure to my young sports memorabilia collector mind. I'd often ask my grandparents about the seats, but they never really told me too much more than where they were from... which was all the information I needed to fall madly in love with them. So, in my grandparents later years, I made it known to them and my parents... that when they passed... that was the one object I wanted. It's been many years since my grandfather passed in 89 and my grandmother passed just a few years ago while I've been out here in Oregon. When I've gone home since, it's always been via airplane and the thought of getting the seats to me out in Oregon seemed nearly impossible till my mom hatched the idea that we should meet halfway. That halfway point was Denver.
Sadly, it just so happened that this trip happened a week after my cousin (who was an uncle to the Groom) was brutally murdered in Florida while trying to stop people from breaking into his neighbors car. Not only did this trip give my family a chance to share in the joy of a new union, but they also got to grieve the loss of a loved one together.
Well, it is with great pleasure that I look forward to loading up the car this evening, armed with one bag of clothes, my GF, my dog, a thermos of coffee and a block of Tilamook white cheddar cheese and pointing it east. We'll travel the Columbia Gorge towards Pendleton and once we get there, we'll take a southerly route towards Boise, Idaho. From here, it'll be further east passing by Salt Lake City Utah and then into Wyoming and finally coming to a rest some 20 hours later in Denver, Colorado.
I made a promise to myself when I moved out to Oregon, that I'd get out and truly experience the wonder and the glory of the fabled American West, but driving 20 hours straight to get to Denver doesn't really qualify. Granted, we'll be passing through some pretty areas, but most likely these will all look the same in the dark. Actually, I'm kinda of dreading the long drive, but looking forward to it all at the same time. The trip isn't really about going to Denver, it's about the "trip", it's about spending some quality time with the GF, it's about getting to see some family, and it's about picking up something I've had my eye on for a really long time.
Which... leaves me to this:
For those of you not in the know, the above images are from Cincinnati's Crosley Field, which was home of the Reds from 1912 - 1970. It was constructed during the great era of steel and concrete ballparks like Wrigley Field, Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park. During the years Crosely was in use, it saw many great games and memorable moments in baseball history. For example, during the Great Depression, with baseball attendance at an all time low, Cincinnati installed lights and hosted the Philadelphia Phillies in the first ever professional baseball night game. That date was May 24th 1935 and President Franklin D. Roosevelt had the distinction of pressing a button that lit up Crosley Field for the game.
So you might ask, what does that have to do with Denver?
Here's the thing, I'm gay.... or at least that's what society tells me should identify with. Or better yet, if I want - I can pick from a whole other alphabet of GLBT friendly letters. But the truth of the matter is, I don't identify with "the gay" other than the fact that the person I love happens to be the same sex as I am and well, a majority of my friends happen to fit that bill as well. Basically... I don't identify with being gay more than I identify as a person who has a pinky toe or pays taxes. It's just one layer and one aspect of the awesomeness that is jennlevo. I am a lot of things. I am an artist, an athlete, an outdoors woman, a dog owner, a sister, a daughter, a friend, etc. Not one thing is bigger than the sum of it's parts.
Growing up, I never really felt ashamed of who I was or unloved. I never felt overly bullied or harassed. I never considered myself closeted or out about my sexuality. I never once considered ending my life because society didn't understand or accept me. It just is what it is.
I understand the plight that people go through and the drama surrounding "the ordeal" and I believe, that yeah... things do get better, but I think half of that is due to just getting out of high school and or early college. In fact, I think polls will find that the majority of people out there hate high school, gay or straight or member of the mathletes or jazz band; high school and school in general is a bitch. There are some people who choose to stay in an everlasting highschool and surround themselves with those people and those tiny mindsets for the rest of their life... and for everyone else who doesn't fit that bill.... I will say that it does gets better. Once you go out and make your life the life you want it to be, regardless of some preconceived norm of how you should live, it gets better.
So basically, it doesn't matter who you love, it doesn't matter who you spend your time googling, it doesn't matter how you identify or how you hide... just go out there and live the life you want to.
Thats my message to everyone on this National Coming Out Day.
Oh and ps.... I hate rainbows and most "pride themed events" scare me.
There is a section in every cross race I've done so far, that is normally dry or flat and I can happily throw down a hammer or two. Riding hard and fast - passing a lot of people and feeling accomplished. And then... well, there is that other 80% of the race that normally requires me to get off the bike and haul it through several inches of deep sticky mud; thereby sucking my momentum and allowing half of the race to pass me. It is masochistic, humiliating and I wonder for the love of God, why I am doing it. I push myself to barely trot along, all the while digging myself out of mud and cleaning it out of my eye for the 16th hundred time.
It is in the mud that I find myself longing for those those flat, dry sections. In fact, I look forward to those flat dry sections around every mucky dirty bend. Sadly though, by the third lap I realize there are not enough of those flat dry sections to make a difference and I start to get discouraged about the mud and myself.
I mean don't get me wrong, I enjoy the mud... but not really.
Honestly, I like going fast and for me, riding through this muddy shit and carrying my bike is just against everything I love about racing.
It is at that moment, I have a minute of heightened sense of clarity: I love bike racing enough to hate it.
Granted, that might not make any sense at all... but I realized that by halting my speed and keeping my forward progress to a bare minimum, that I really really love going fast (and riding in circles) and I am good at that. I discovered that by putting myself in the most horrible conditions I can imagine, counterintuitive to everything I enjoy, that I can appreciate what I really really love even more. That, and I love a good challenge... and cross is just that, a challenge. As well, I can feel the humility in sucking ass at things that other people excel in. I mean, we can't all be awesome at everything (well, not most of us anyways).
Oh summer time, I look forward to your next season. I look forward to your warm days and your dry pavement and your fast laps. I look forward to a place where I can go as fast as I want to and I never have to slow down or lose momentum because of mud.
I mean don't get me wrong, I enjoy the mud ... but I like going fast more.
After my cross race last weekend at Alpenrose... I had a few friends ask afterwards if my jaw got sore after my race? I scratched my head at their questions not really understanding what they were referring to... I mean, I was sore in several places... but I hadn't fallen on my face or anything, so I just didn't get it.
Then I saw a few photos from the race and it came very clear what they were referring to:
So, apparently I have a "game face".... which, under further examination looks to be most similar to this:
You can just start calling me "piranah" from now on.
More than anything, one of my favorite topics to write about is hypocrisy in advertising. Most recently, I’ve been irked about the latest advertising campaign from W+K and Levis Jeans called “Ready To Work”. In this campaign, Levis celebrates the average American blue collar worker, you know... the people who built America and made it the great place it is today.
Ideally, it makes sense right? What is more “American” and iconic than Levis jeans? Long the chosen affordable brand of those who punch the time clock, work hard, sweat hard, and know the value of a dollar on a days work, Levis has collaborated with the people from the dilapidated rust belt town of Braddock, PA to celebrate “work” and “iconic heritage work wear”. Levis features the Braddock citizens in their marketing campaign which includes TV ads, print, film, website, etc. In return the folks from Braddock get their mugs in advertisements, they get written about in GOOD magazine (which is actually a paid product placement articles on behalf of Levis), they get some respect from the average consumer that sees the ads and thinks... “Yeah, the people of Braddock... they are hard working, just like me.” On top of all of that, Levis is even helping the town by donating money to the local library, community center and urban farm.
Seems like a pretty good deal eh?
However, the irony with all of these these “classic american icon” articles of clothing is that they are not your standard affordable prices for the “hard working American”. No, they are fashion items made to appeal to the current hipster or seemingly recent trend of blue collar “chic” aka: heritage brands. Take for example the classic Levis Trucker denim jacket, on average it will cost you $80. Or... if you want the one that is apparently more of homage to the “respect for heritage workwear, heirloom quality and tradition” be willing to shell out $280. Jeans? Well, according to the Levis website, no pair of jeans under the basic Levis label is actually less than $44. Now, by no means am I impoverished - my family has done pretty well for ourselves, but I come from an impoverished rural area. The majority of the folks in my small Southern Ohio hometown are as about as hard working and yet down on their luck as the people of Braddock PA and you know what... the majority of my community does most of their shopping at Wal Mart. This means that at most, the average price that hard working american is willing to pay for their denim staple is $20.
Oh, and did I forget to mention that that “heirloom quality” jacket (which pays homage to the hard working American) is imported? As in.... not even made in America? That’s the second piece of irony here; Levis closed their last American plant in 2003 and since, all Levi’s items have been made outside of the USA. You know, if Levis really wanted to help and support the people of Braddock Pennsylvania, they could do more than feature them in advertisements, blogs and donate money to the local library and community center. No, if Levis really cared about the people of Braddock and the hard working American down on their luck... they could put a factory there and give the people jobs. Because we all know that another trend will come along and people will forget the ads, and then where are the people of Braddock? Still in the same slump... their 15 minutes of fame over and guess what, they still have to put food on the table and provide for their family.
Another funny thing is, apparently all over America you can find these ads and billboards that have "Levis" and then "Braddock, PA" listed under the slogan; which ideally, makes most people think that the jeans are being made in Braddock. However,a trip to Braddockproves that Levis doesn't even try to make people think there is a new industry in town... no where in Braddock can you find a billboard that has Braddock and Levis on it.
Basically it all comes down to this.... if Levis really cared enough to celebrate the American work ethic and the American worker, they could actually just make their jeans in America.
I enjoy grocery shopping. In fact, my favorite things are free food samples and when a song I love comes over the grocery store radio. I think that everyone needs a theme song and that everyone should be given free rolls of toilet paper when they get their taxes back. I like sweeping my floor but I hate doing the dishes. I love phrases of speech like "painfully shy", "disarmingly beautiful" and the word "threadbare". I'm a great gatherer of firewood, maker of bonfires and jumper of rope. Basically, I see every day as a "Choose Your Own Adventure" story and try to steer clear from any theme park or packaged experience in life.
