This last week my view through the shop window has looked like a fading photograph. Each day drains more color from the trees and sky and even the sun appears desaturated and half-hearted. Inside the shop, the heater hums at my feet but steel tubes and tools feel colder in my hands. I find myself seeking warmth.

I wrap myself in layers of wools and fleece, but as I work, warm pockets of air drift off and away from me. In these spaces, the cold settles in. I feel the need to spark my pilot light. I need warmth that begins inside me, that moves through me and with me.

I make a cup of tea. Leaves and water. A steeping cup sits next to me on my workbench and its steam infuses the sharp metallic air of the shop with a softer note. Between tasks, my hands curl around warm ceramic and I sip. It is a rustic tea ceremony I make for myself, lacking ritual or precision, but full of appreciation.

How unlikely that, while the rain outside pulls color from the fallen leaves, water poured over the tea leaves in my cup draws out a richer hue. Oolong, desert sage, green tea, peppermint - uncurling and softening. And how graciously that tea warms my belly, softens my shoulders and radiates through me. Sip by sip until I feel that warmth as a part of me, a warm cup for a cold shop to wrap itself around.

FAVORITES:

Republic of Tea Desert Sage – reminds me of a dear friend, calls for plenty of honey.
Tao of Tea White Peony – Given to me by a customer I adore, it is sweet and a little nutty.
Trader Joe’s Earl Gray – the kind of no-nonsense get ‘er done black tea my mom raised me to drink.

COVET:
Tao of Tea Jasmine Pearls - when asked Twitter for a recommendation, the masses rallied for this one.
Lipton’s Russian Ceylon - available in France and England, this blend is reported to have little yellow flowers and comes recommended by a friend who knows about such things.
Smith Tea Brahmin’s Choice - the latest from new (old) local teamaker Steven Smith.

Forest Park had been going dark for miles and my perception of speed was going funny on me. We were pedaling slowly, but felt as though we were flying. As the last light disappeared, we slowed down even more in order to make out pieces of the trail in front of us. We couldn’t bring ourselves to stop and put on our bike lights.

That would have broken the spell.

The trail was no longer ahead of us. It was suddenly under us, around us, and everywhere.

I have often told myself during hard efforts to ignore my body’s distress signals. After all, pain is just a message that you body sends your brain. My mantra is “It’s just sensation.” And it is a reminder that I don’t need to feed or validate my pain with attention. This works disturbingly well for me. I suspect I’ve always had a knack for willful disembodiment.

But night riding in Forest Park, “It’s just sensation” took on an entirely different meaning. As my vision grew dimmer my focus receded from the next horizon, the next corner, all the way back to my own body. I felt the air gradually grow colder on my skin. l listened to the sound of gravel beneath Austin’s tires noting when he seemed to roll through a wet spot on the trail. I felt my bike more as an extension of my body than a vehicle. I relaxed my limbs to better feel and respond to the terrain. This too was just sensation. It was just sensation that found me and held me exactly where I was.

After pedaling four last incredible miles, we popped out of the trail onto the road. We stopped to put on an extra layer, dig out our lights, and reconnect with a familiar sense of the world. But ever since, I’ve been itching to go back.

(The author with her game face on.)

After racing my first cyclocross race of the year this afternoon, I did a self-assessment. What went well? What could use some work? Bike handling, general fitness . . . Eh, not so shabby. Barriers . . . Oy, not so hot.

But there is an additional skill set that they won’t teach you in the school of cross. I need to work on my cheering and my game face. I believe that these are areas that can be developed, just like dismounts and remounts.

CHEERING
My cheering is too cheerful. I am the de facto Energy Coach of the Super Relax Concept, yelling things like “Go EVERYBODY!” And “Good effort out there! Don’t be afraid to share you feelings!”. Offering positive reinforcement during Austin’s race, I stood next to the legendary John Howe of Team Beer and got a lesson in how it is really done. He bellows “Suck it up! This is a race, people - you paid money for this!”

Tough love was what this course called for. It was clear that racers grinding up a slick bumpy muddy incline needed to tap into agression not self-acceptance. They needed a heckling that they could bite into when the pain hit, not the verbal equivalent of Tension Tamer tea.

Next time I will do better. If you too need a refresher course in transcendental ferociousness, I invite you to join me as I revisit my two inspirations in this field of study.

First, blues singer Susan Tedeschi. I heard one of her live albums in which she boomed and growled the blues and finished every set by chirping a sweet bright “thank you :)” Her voice embodies such emotional range that I hear my own voice as a flat monotone by comparison.

Secondly, racer/writer/homey Heidi Swift. She is equally inspiring, perhaps more fierce. If after watching this video, you need further explanation, you can see me after class:

Her battle cries will wipe any goofy smile off my face and f-ing BRING IT.

Both have lurking just beneath the surface a raw power that they can tap into to get a job done that simply can’t get done sweetly. Next week I will roar “Get up that hill Princess! This isn’t a beauty contest!” And it will mean “I appreciate you for who you are.”

GAME FACE
My game face lacks game. (See above.) This is a tough one. It is just how my face looks.

Besides practicing in the mirror every morning, the only thing that might fix my grin into a proper soul-crushing grimace is more cowbell. And a bit more time in the blast radius of the lovely Miss Heidi Swift.

A recent customer of ours surprised his wife for her birthday with a Little Black Dress in Pumpkin and put it together beautifully with some bamboo fenders and Queen Bee Panniers.  He sent us this beautiful photo of his wife and the bike on one of the first rides.

Click here for the story.  Click here for the build.

(Click image to see comments.)

The little color chart we have on the LUST page didn’t really do an awesome job of communicating just how deep this color is.  Hopefully this helps.

I think that the choice of green handlebar tape is inspired.

(Photos by Daniel Sharp Photography)

A few months ago, we announced our LUST Line and with it our first model The Little Black Dress.  The LUST Line is a faster way to get a Sweetpea - bikes are delivered in months, not the three years for a custom bike.  We did this in order to get more women on bikes that fit, but also because three years is a LONG TIME.  For us, and for you.  We needed a way to deliver bikes faster and more predictably, and this is it.

The good news is that we are now taking orders for our second batch.  If you are interested, give us a call or contact us here.

One Percent For the Planet | Sweetpea Bicycles from felt soul media on Vimeo.

The folks over at 1% For the Planet are doing short member profiles with some help from the gang at Felt Soul Media (who incidentally did the awesome film Red Gold).  We are stoked that they chose to profile us, as well as give Greta her internet video debut.  They do a great job of capturing why we 1% members, but we also feel pretty lucky to share a little space on the internet with our business hero Yvon Chouinard.

When we joined, there wasn’t even a cycling category.  Today, in addition to the 52 participating Oregon companies, there are also a bunch of great local cycling companies who are also 1% members.  (See: Team Estrogen and Tsunehiro Cycles)

Travel Oregon along with the digital agency Substance just launched Ride Oregon which is one stop shopping for people who want to come to Oregon to experience it’s bike culture, awesome scenery, or perhaps buy a bike.  We were honored that they chose to include an image of JJ Fantastic’s Sweetpea complete with matching dress.

We are continually surprised by the number of people who would rather travel to Portland to get fit for a bike than handle things over the phone.  Ride Oregon just made that process a little easier and a lot more fun.

I bought this lamp for myself when I was in Japan in 2002. As an architecture grad student, I had no money, and was totally unaccustomed by my frugal and pragmatic nature to spend money on objects of beauty for myself. But standing the Japanese lamp shop on a warm early summer day, I knew that my future self would never forgive me if I didn’t buy this lamp. I loved its material simplicity, its delightful asymmetry and its playful warmth. The legs did a little squat when I tugged on the cord. I took it home with me in a sturdy black box. It has taken quite a few years growing into the future self that was ready to receive the gift. For way too long, I have moved around from one place to the other, packing and unpacking, and never quite settling in. Last night, as I unpacked for good into our new home, I decided it was time for a little bit of bask lighting. Tug. Squat. Click. Arigato!