Knocked out the first 2/3rds of a 20 miler at the…



Knocked out the first 2/3rds of a 20 miler at the @newyorkroadrunners Fred Lebow Half Marathon, then ran home from Central Park for the last 7. Two rounds of Harlem Hill with @ryan_haney egging me on made the Wmsburg Bridge seem a little desolate by comparison. #whyirun #flhm #stravaproveit #nyrr (at Central Park)

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A day-saving run in sleet



The best way to accommodate myself to bad weather, I find, is to go run in it. The sleet or rain or violent wind makes what might have been an uneventful run into an adventure. When you live in a city, it can be the only kind of natural adventure available to you.

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Gorgeous photo essay on cold weather surfing. Wish I could surf….



Gorgeous photo essay on cold weather surfing. Wish I could surf. And I kind of wish it were this cold.

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Poem for the Old Year

For the new year, Tessa Rumsey’s “Poem for the Old Year.” I’ve loved this poem unreasonably since I read it at the desk of my first job in New York 16 years ago. Happy New Year!

Poem for the Old Year
January. The archer aims at himself.
His target is the eye of a fish. River
is frozen. Field rises in mists of lost
desire and steams the sealed sky open.
Fish be ruby-weeping. Fish be nailed
through scale onto door of silver birch.
Over the mountain beaten boy searches
for his teeth inside a clump of brambles.
The sound of thorns through his skin
 is mercy. The sound of a beautiful fish
being nailed to a door is mercy, mercy.
Nobody knows the origin of music,
or who wind pitches for between rock
and rock like a bronco heart kicking
in its cage. Breeze seduces bow. Bow
abandons arrow. Boy finds shelter
in thicket and hears music of his breath
through ugly, twisted thistles. Come
home. It’s time to begin again. A boy
is nailed to the door and a fish is aimed
at an archer, mountain is weeping rubies
onto frozen river while wind grinds
two new teeth. Who are you 
inside the music of another’s suffering?
When I was a nail I loved only
the hammer. When I was a breeze I died
on a door. When I was a fish
I swam without knowing not yet, or last
breath, or shore.

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From the archives: 7 Years War

From the archives: 7 Years War:

You’re digging through the closet, trying to find a power strip, when you stumble across your old electric guitar. Your daughter wanted a guitar for Christmas and you didn’t get her one, but maybe she’d like to play this one, so you pull it out and open the case. There in the case is a t-shirt from a hardcore band from Orlando that you saw one frozen night in Vermont 17 winters ago, when your brother’s hardcore band opened for them. And so you find yourself in the kitchen on Christmas afternoon with headphones in, listening to strident vegan hardcore while Mariah Carey plays on repeat in the living room.

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When you’re the son of a preacher, your childhood…



When you’re the son of a preacher, your childhood Christmas mornings can be rushed & stressful. So our Christmas breakfast tradition was not a leisurely meal at a heavily-laden table but a Sara Lee butter streusel coffee cake from the freezer aisle at Piggly Wiggly. There is almost no Sara Lee butter streusel in the cold north, as far as I can see, so after years of frustration and deprivation I was forced to try to make one myself, with help from @thekitchn. Verdict: pretty close, and a damn sight better than Entenmann’s. (There is a Baudrillardian lesson in here somewhere, but it’s Christmas, so ctfo)

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Bitters in Edible Brooklyn

[T]hese already lonely shifts on security became strange silent vigils in which she sat in a corner with a spiral-top notebook, occasionally writing out questions to me and taking tiny sips from a bottle of Angostura bitters.”

My first encounter with bitters was not in a cocktail.

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Segway we go

Looks to me that the all-powerful Segway lobby got a specific exemption in the new electric bike crackdown for their “self-balancing, two non-tandem wheeled devices designed to transport one person by means of an electric propulsion system”

Imagine a world in which every delivery bike bearing congealed meatballs and quarts of pho is replaced with a Segway and you’ll have a new standard for horror.

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“When the cow leaves, the rotation changes to all row crops: no need for oats or hay, less ground…”

“”When the cow leaves, the rotation changes to all row crops: no need for oats or hay, less ground cover, soil erosion increases, no chores for kids, input costs increase, income decreases, off-farm work, fewer farmers, weakened family, community downgrades.””

Dick Thompson, quoted in a workshop on sustainable pork production at the Young Farmers Conference 2013 at Stone Barns
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goatfellfarm: Grateful for our patient birds, our helpful…



goatfellfarm:

Grateful for our patient birds, our helpful neighbors, our hardworking crew, and the fruitfulness of our fields. Happy Thanksgiving!

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