I saw a DeLorean DMC-12 in Mitte, near Bodemuseum today. All brushed stainless steel and fat typography on its arse. Looks way more serious in real life than photos, kinda like when I first saw an F40. That would be my German Whip of all time. Forgot phone though. Instead, here’s a view out my window. I took the day off. Two lunches, several episodes of The Man in the High Castle (turned the volume way down when they went on a “Sieg Heil” bender; really, really uncomfortable viewing in Berlin in 2018), much chatting with Gala (who was doing similar), no riding, no work, no ticking off shite on a list, just having a quiet, sunny and warm, lazy autumn day in my apartment.
Autumn wander with Charlotte through parts of southern Neukölln I’ve never been to before. Körnerpark, former 19th century gravel pit pretending to be 17th century Schlossgarten, and a Migration Period grave of a horse rider. Berlin, still turning it on like a hard lover.
A little on the tight side, stove and fridge busted, took most of a week to clean and do repairs, but it has a balcony, faces south-east, windows everywhere, gets the sun till early-afternoon, is cheap almost in the way Berlin used to be. Home for now.
A couple of close-ups of the rather pretty 1931 Austin 7 EA Sports Ulster loitering on the corner this morning.
Seen on the corner of Tellstr. and Weserstr. with the red Toyota Supra with the massive spoiler in the background. I’m not usually a pre-WWII car fangirl, but this whip smelt of maximum hill climb and thrashage. “Who told you that I got rusty? Draw for the WD-40.”
Each 10-minute-ish lap of Tempelhofer Feld: shove in an aero position into a 20km/h headwind for medium amounts of discomfort along the southern section of the airport; on the west and north, sprint ten times in 10 second blocks of increasing intensity with 20 second not-slacking-off pace in-between; wonder if I will ever feel love again by the end of that, recover for the eastern section and do it all again. Four times. It’s not so much about absolute speed at the moment (though faster is nicer, and I’d love to be doing this on a road bike rather than my cyclocross bike) as it is about mental and emotional discipline to handle what is frankly unpleasant, and which I really, really want to bail out of every time. Physiologically, I’m not sure what it does, but I find I notice if I don’t make it one of my core training sessions. On the eighth sprint on one session my brain went “Hard No,” pulled the red Emergency Stop handle, which in retrospect, looking at my heart hitting 193bpm seemed to be a pretty sensible and clear message.
Finding new ways to enjoy suffering. This one is mostly “ugh.” Long, intense session training, out of the saddle, over-gearing (as much as possible on a cyclocross compact chainset) for an entire lap of Tempelhofer Feld. Recover for a lap and repeat. After, I found blisters on my thumbs from rubbing against the metal pins on the shifters. The data from my heart rate monitor and speed make their own series of hills and valleys, ascents and descents.
Big news!! Its with great pleasure that I wish to announce that I’ve been named a 2018 Sidney Myer Creative Fellow, one among 8 exceptional artists. This prestigious biennial award seeks to provide support to a group of mid-career artists (across all disciplines) and arts workers, who are judged by a panel of national peers as demonstrating the qualities of “outstanding talent and exceptional courage”. I’m honoured to receive this support and recognition of my work, and doubly so to share it with such an outstanding cohort which includes 3 #FirstNations artists: myself, Merindah Donnelly and Jonathan Jones. I was nominated for the fellowship by @emmmwebb and refereed by @hettiperkins, two forces of nature who humble me with their support. My thanks to them, to the Myer foundation and to the panel. 🙌🏼🙏🏽💥🖤💛❤️
Three months ago, during Ramadan, I decided I needed more art goals. This morning I got up early and rode the Berliner Mauerweg for eight hours. 173 kilometres of cobblestones, gravel, deteriorating single lane concrete roads, forest trails (mixed with gravel and more cobbles, or sand), single track, sand everywhere, plus some rather luxurious roads and bike paths for the other slightly more than half. I’ve been thinking of this and other not-quite-art / definitely-art as Solo Endurance Works. Emma Pooley has been a big (remote / unaware) mentor for this, particularly the work I do on a bike, however it might (or might not) make itself as art. Either way, I’m pretty fucking tired, sore, exhausted, space out, possibly rather pleased with myself in the wash of all that raked over-ness. And there’s so much to say about history, the Berlin Wall (along which Germans should have to walk each year, like performing the Hajj), my own selfhood and my struggles with, which is the reason for this in the first place. Another time.
Embrace the Suffering.
Accept it and Suffer.
Make the pain your choice, and be happy about it.
Practice to ride like you care.
You have to really care about it, you have to really suffer. — Emma Pooley
- saddle position
- hand position
- over / undergearing
- stay calm