In the holiday season, we wish one another joy, happiness and merriment. Here’s a contemplation of what joy means and why a simple joy ride is anything but simple.
In the holiday season, we wish one another joy, happiness and merriment. Here’s a contemplation of what joy means and why a simple joy ride is anything but simple.
Very little in nature is flat enough, square enough and straight enough in a raw form. I’ve learned a lot in this tension between the natural shape of wood grain and what I hope to use it for.
Independence Pass is a 19.13 mile, 4,160 ft climb from the edge of Aspen, Colorado to the summit. It’s hard to do without proper training, but not impossible.
Have you ever had a physically intense routine with no particularly glamorous upside that gives you the warm fuzzies a year later?
On this rainy climb to a overlook on the Golden Gate Bridge, I contemplate what being a cyclist means in this era of my life.
When I last published a blog post, I titled it “We’re Building the Richmond Velodrome.” It was an ambitious statement. But it’s been over 4 years since then. I haven’t written anything for a long time. So what happened?
This is a guest post from Ben King, a professional cyclist for Team Dimension Data. I highly recommend looking at his other blog posts on benkingusa.com. Junior Cyclist Q&A August 4, 2016 Encouragement and mentorship from an army of supporters paved the way for...
Ben King is a professional cyclist riding for Team Dimension Data for Qhubeka from Charlottesville, Virginia. His family name is well-known here in Richmond and across Virginia as synonymous with excellence in cycling. When he's not biking, he enjoys playing guitar,...
Ben King Digs Deep to Win Stage 9 of the Vuelta a España I got in touch with Ben King to interview him for my blog. Before he replied to me, I read his race report from the Vuelta a España. I liked it so much I decided to quote an excerpt of his race report before I...
It may surprise you to learn that track cycling was once a leading American sport. In the pre-WWII era, as Babe Ruth was cracking curved balls into left field, America’s winter sport of choice wasn’t basketball. That hadn’t been invented yet. It was track racing.