When we introduced the LUST line of bikes almost a year ago, we set out to do a few important things. OK. One thing:

We wanted to make it easy as possible to get one of our bikes.

The way we smartly did this was that we distilled what we knew about bike design an boiled it into three sizes, three colors, and three parts options. We also bunched the orders in sets of 20 to make the process easier for us and our build partners.

It totally worked.

But it wasn’t exactly what you wanted.
And to be honest, it wasn’t what we wanted either.

What we found out over and over again was that while we had a lot of smart design thinking built into our sizes, a lot of you wanted the benefit of our custom design process. It was inescapable, you’d call up wanting a medium, but you had neck pain or knee pain that needed solving.

We heard you.

Today we are officially announcing that you can get any of our LUST line bikes, the Little Black Dress, the A-Line, and the BOOM BOOM in a completely custom design.

Plus:

• You can order it whenever you want.
• You can pick your color.
• You can get it in just 10 weeks.

All for just an extra $200. (Doesn’t include any fitting services.)

This wasn’t a case of haphazard organizing. I thought of this crank arm as a love letter from my old flame, a ruggedly handsome red 1970’s LeJeune track bike.

I bought the LeJeune from the local velodrome’s old racing fleet in the spring of ’99. I couldn’t believe my luck. I handed over $200 and the bike was mine. I removed the wheels, and threw it over my shoulder and biked it home across town like a new bride.

Our honeymoon lasted all summer. We rode through the days that grew warmer and longer, going everywhere together. I felt giddy, light, and free. My work as a bike messenger seemed to be no more than an excuse to be together.

At some point, I discovered that the left crank arm had a small crack by the crank bolt and would need to be replaced. While I would have loved another Campy Pista crank to replace it, I ended up with a 165mm Stronglight crank in a complimentary style. I doubt that I can take credit for wearing out the old crank. Still, I was happy to leave my mark on the LeJeune. Call it the transformative nature of love.

Nothing lasts forever. Not cranks, not summer, not the object of your desires. At the end of summer, the LeJeune was stolen from me. It damn near broke my heart. I know. It is just a bike. But all the same, I don’t need to tell you that there is no such thing as “just a bike.” They get into your heart and they stay there, long after they are gone.

When I look at the old busted left crank arm, it still reflects my old love. Even in its most broken part, even in its absence.

Now go hug your bike. Give it a big kiss. Life is short and no one is watching.

I am still getting shit about the year when I resolved to do a one-armed push-up by the end of the year. My current push-ups can be generously called “modified” and solidly two-armed. The flaws in my plan were as obvious as they were commonplace: my lack of upper body strength and lack of any compelling reason to gain any.  The classic formula is to identify an area of perceived weakness, throw some will-power and discipline at it, and see if it makes you a better person.

Exercise more. Get up earlier. Go Twinkie-free in 2011. I’m a sucker for self-improvement and fresh starts, but this time we are going to take a more direct shot:

• Find something that already brings you joy.
• Focus on cultivating that one thing more often.
• Repeat.

My first coup was the purchase of a 1.5 pint ice cream maker. Over the past year, I have developed a fierce love of coconut milk ice cream. The minimum effective dose is fairly benign – a pint a week. And it makes me ridiculously happy. But the extravagant cost of $6/pint was getting in the way of enjoying it unabashedly.  So, I carefully compared coconut ice cream recipes and methods. I conducted a comprehensive search for the ideal ice cream maker. I did the math. At a pint a week, my new cuisinart ice 20 will pay for itself in four months. BAM. Resolved!  By the end of the year, my return on investment will be measured by the creamy delicious bowlful.

What are you going to do to grab 2011 by the happies? Whether you find more opportunities to ride your bike or read more spy novels, I think that this year we have more to gain by proving to ourselves that we can follow through on living the lives we already love than we could ever gain by fussing over the weak spots.

Watching friends and pros crush through the mud and snow surrounded by the sounds of cowbells was an incredible end to what was an amazing cross season. It was a big one for us, as 2010 marked the year Sweetpea dipped her big toe in to the gooey puddle of cyclocross love. But we did not venture alone.  We started a team with the LOVELY Heidi Swift, which we called the Sweetpea Ladies Auxiliary.

Until this season, I never thought of myself as a team sports kind of gal. My third grade soccer career had been marked primarily by a motivation not to let my teammates down with my lack of native talent.  I encountered team sports with a keen awareness of my individual shortcomings and the value of the “good” athletes on the team.  I suspect that many girls (and women) decide at a certain point that they are not athletes, and that they are not “good enough” for a team. I know I did.

Well fuck that.

Early summer, we sent out invites to a handful of women:

“You are receiving this not for you past race results, but for the style, strength, and joy you bring to cycling.  We are starting a team inspired by your jaw-dropping, thunderous awesomeness and the recognition that women’s cycling deserves it’s own cozy place of ferocious style and relentless fun.  We want you among our ranks for battle and friendship.”

Sense of humor on a crappy day and good conversation on a long ride aren’t the qualities that you typically look for in a stable of athletes. But they are qualities you look for in a friend. And that seemed like the most sensible place to start.

As the season wraps up, I can honestly say that we learned a lot.  We learned that we need a bigger tent, a heater, and post race hot toddies.   We learned that skinsuits do make you faster no matter how fast you ride, that rear derailleurs should be sold in 10-packs, and that war paint goes on fingertips.  We confirmed our hunch that a battle and friendship are a powerful combo. Next year, you should join us.

Which brings me to another bit of news. Along with the team, I designed and rolled out a Team Issue cross bike. It is a bike we are calling the Boom Boom. This bike is available as a custom design only, and is delivered in just 10 weeks. It will fit you like a dream. It will get dirty. Boys will be jealous. More information here.

I’ve been on something of a de-cluttering rampage over he last couple of weeks. I think it might be the vestigal packing + moving instinct that 12 years of annual moving has imprinted on my brain. It could be my inner minimalist getting me back.

There are a couple of tennents of the decluttering process that I have routinely observed. They take their inspiration from the three gatekeepers of mindful speech:

1. Is it kind?
2. Is it true?
3. Is it useful?

No to all three keeps the silence.

My de-cluttering gatekeepers are these:

1. Is it a source of great pleasure?
2. Is it true to my current life and values?
3. Is it useful?

No to all three means I chuck it.

But one item has consitantly squeaked by on a technicality. My old beaten up silver sidis. They had been such a complete and unqualified pleasure to own that their glow in my memory has blinded me to their current beauty, relevance, and usefulness.

I bought them on a bike messengers salary, well before I bought myself a decent decent bike. I spent three times as much on these shoes as I ever had on any other. Before I understood the ass kicking superpowers cowboy boots bestow, I understood the power of silver sidis. I wore them every day all day and the only other shoes I needed in my life were perhaps a pair of bunny slippers. My sidis took me everywhere and in return I kept them shined with silver shoe polish.

Eventually, the Velcro lost it’s bite and the treads were worn down to the very sole around the cleats. I regretfully replaced them with a newer model pair of black sidis.

When I uncovered them in a box, I saw in them something different than that static memory that had retained their super powers. I saw in them something familiar and present – my current pair of sidis. They are about 4 years old now, and in the exact same way, they are both worse and better for the wear.

When I have to replace these shoes, will I hold on to them too, for all of the miles and the climbs, and the perfect tailwinds they conjure? Will I see I them the super power that my silver sidis held?

I don’t think so. The spell has been broken. The superpowers are in the use and the time and the beauty of experience. Simply put, the ass kicking powers are in the act of kicking ass.

American design meets German engineering meets a little winter sunshine.

The brilliant premier of Peloton Magazine is on select newsstands with a feature about our humble bike company. References include: knitting, bike shows, design, and one floral print apron with yellow trim.

I remember being puzzled by the first ride report I got back from Ms. Fantastic after taking delivery of her step-through. But I shouldn’t have. This woman is amazing.

I had designed her custom Sweetpea to elegantly blend two different goals. First, the bike had to be cute enough to complement Ms. Fantastic’s gorgeous sense of style. Second, it needed to have some real power behind it as she was going to use it to haul her two wonderful kids. The result was a delicious vanilla sundae of a bike sprinkled with rich wood, leather and pinstripes. Look a little closer and you’ll see that this bike is a little longer than other step-through bikes, with a riding position that allows her to generate some power.

So, I was expecting to hear about how the bike trucked her kids on a trip to the library or how it easy it was to ride in a skirt. But, instead Ms. Fantastic told me how she went out for a solo cruise and ran into a local women’s squad doing some hill repeats. She jumped into the group and decided to hammer out a few repeats. The bike hauled.

That got me thinking.

Women shouldn’t have to compromise comfort and speed for style when they ride a step-through. They don’t need to be too heavy, too old, or too upright to really kick into gear when you need it. Ms. Fantastic’s first ride caused me to recognize that the pluck and grace that come so naturally to her and from which her bike took form are something that we all want a piece of.

With the design of the A-Line, I took apart everything you thought you knew about “ladies bikes” and tried to put together a new classic. Lightweight, technically modern, effortlessly stylish, and immodestly fast. As Fantastic as she is, she can’t have all the fun now can she?

“A bike should look good on it’s own, but it’s incomplete until a person rides it.”