I’ve always cringed at the phrase, “labor of love.”

Heck, even typing it kinda gave me the willies. Sorta like a lot of songs from the ’70’s do when I hear them. Like, “…she ran callin’ Wildfire,” or “The Night Chicago Died.”

But I digress.

I’m hip-deep in a cycling documentary. It’s a me, myself, and I kinda thing. 

Luggin’ 4 digital cameras, filter packs, lenses​, and audio gear out nearly an hour each way from home nearly every week, occasionally bolting on a GoPro or two, and trying not to irritate some very, very focused athletes — all without any dedicated photographic assistance — is admittedly challenging. 

But the story I see visually developing is making this cyclist and photographer pretty giddy.

So, OK, “LOL” as a moniker might just work. (Do ya see what I just did, there?)

The first time trial of the Cleves Time Trial series for 2016 just happened. It runs every Tuesday night on the same course through the end of September, just like it has since I was eight years old. (That’s 1973, if you’re curious; two years before that earworm “Wildfire” song buried itself into my 4th grade cranium.)  

I liken Cleves to a cycling version of the bar, “Cheers.” It’s the most accessible bike race you’ll ever participate in (despite it’s relatively remote locale) and hosted by some serious class acts from the Cincinnati cycling club known as the Queen City Wheels.

I’ve posted a couple of sets of stills from the burgeoning video footage bins to the QCW message board last year to let the rank n’ file know I was serious about this film. But I figured it was time for an update. 

So here is a collection of pulled stills from some of my favorite clips, which also includes a series of interviews from notable Cleves personalities. 

I'll continue to alternate shooting on some Tuesdays with participating myself on others. (My best time is 24:48. I really, really, really wanna hear Pete Wimberg, who calls out the times each Tuesday evening as we sit sipping our recovery drinks on the grass, call my name and say the number “23” one of these weeks.

But 49 seconds is an eternity in time trialing.

As I'll be shooting through September and using the winter of 2016 to edit, it may seem like an eternity before this film gets shown.

But that's love for ’ya.​