(via Carry-On | Rapha)
Om du berre skal sjå ein dansefilm i dag (by WHZGUD2)
Bergen Brass Band
Faktor: Døden bak styret
Gode lokalpolitikar i by og bygd. Snart er det val, og eg tilbyr følgjande hestehandel: Du les teksten min, eg fiksar valkampen din.
I am always surprised when people come up to me wearing a T-shirt that says, “Shut up legs!” It was just something I said once, long ago, to a journalist who’d asked how I could dig so deep in races. But even today people who see me say, “Come on, Jens. Tell us! You know what we want to hear!”
“Shut up legs,” I say, and they love it. They laugh. They tell me it inspires them.
Kan hende eg bygger meg ein slik ebay-karbon-racer i løpet av hausten.
On the Shakespeare Scale for evaluating athletic performances in terms of their tragic flaws, in other words, Federer rated a full Hamlet. He was indecisive. He was slow to act. He looked like he’d rather be in a grove somewhere getting depressed about epistemology than knifing the motherfucker who X’d his dad.4 And that was genuinely shocking, because … my god, that was Roger Federer. No athlete from my lifetime has been a more natural combination of instinct and intelligence and talent and proficiency and will.
Brian Phillips skriv godt om Federer vs. Tsonga
(via Agenda)