Sweating it out with 1080's
What’s up, party people, and fellow BMX nerds? This Monday morning wasn’t your typical Monday morning… well, maybe for these animals — but for me? Holy fuck. This was my first-ever time at Logan Land, and straight up, it was completely fucked how good these guys actually are at BMX. Like, the kind of good that makes you question why you even own a bike. 7AM and Already Cookin’ 7AM sharp, I roll down to the Gold Coast to film a little Weekend Vibes clip with Brock Horneman. The day starts off wholesome as hell — Brock’s puppy is flipping around the crib, then we link up with Lara Lessmann and head off to Logan Martin’s place for an early morning session. I walk in — before I’ve even said g’day to anyone — and Logan is already sending a flair down whip off something that looked about 60ft tall. Might’ve been less, might’ve been more — hard to tell when your brain is melting. Blink… 1080. Turn your head… Brandon Loupos is chucking double flairs like it’s a casual day at Bunnings Oh, yep, Logan just fires one straight after. No big deal. Just another Monday. These guys are the definition of professional. Just straight to business, straight to murder. Brock Decides It’s Time to Get Silly Now Brock’s warmed up. So have this Flair bar Flair whip Flair bar tuck Flair bar to bar back Whatever the fuck you can think of, he’s doing it — clean, controlled, and way too early in the morning for that level of violence. Meanwhile, I’m standing there holding a camera, trying to remember how to blink and wondering if my life choices led me here just to be emotionally destroyed by BMX talent. Well, yeah, actually, my life choices have always been BMX This level of riding was so fun to film. Everything is dialled, massive, and built for going way bigger than your brain is comfortable with. Watching these riders' session is straight-up disrespectful to reality. No fear. No hesitation. Just send, land, repeat.
After Logan Land, we packed it up and headed off to Beenleigh — and honestly, that’s probably where we fucked up.
The sun was absolutely cooking. No clouds. No breeze. Just full-blown Queensland heat bouncing off concrete like it had a personal vendetta against us. Standing still felt illegal. Riding? Even worse.
We tried anyway, because we’re idiots and that’s what BMX does to you. We’re out there baking, sweating through clothes, arms turning into noodles, brains running on about two brain cells total — all for clips. Every run-up felt longer, every bail felt heavier, and every “one more go” was a straight-up lie.
I think we managed to scrape together four clips before reality hit us in the face like a brick. That was it. Tank empty. Game over.No hero shit. No toughing it out. We were fucking cooked. Few games of pool, talking shit, replaying the morning in our heads like “did that actually just happen?” and waiting, praying, begging for an afternoon breeze to roll in. The plan? Regroup and maybe catch some airflow later at Hibes. If the wind showed up and the heat fucked off, maybe — maybe — we’d squeeze a bit more juice out of the day.
But if not? Still a win.
Because not every BMX day is about stacking clips till you’re broken. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to pull the pin, have a beer, and appreciate how lucky you are to even be around sessions like this.
Logan Land in the morning.
Beenleigh tried to kill us.
The pub saved our lives.
Alright, Hibes is on. Or at least we think it is.
We roll through and link up with Jason Watts, thinking we might be able to sneak a few more clips into the bank and finish the day strong. Sun’s starting to dip a bit, vibes are there, optimism levels dangerously high.
Reality check? Still hot as fuck.
We push through, purely out of stubbornness. Two clips at Hibes, and honestly, they felt earned. After that?
Big, collective “fuck this heat”.
No arguments. No debate. Just mutual understanding that we’d hit the limit and anything more was gonna end in someone hating BMX for at least a week. So yeah — back to the pub it is. Because at that point, cold beers, air-con, and sitting down felt more productive than trying to milk another half-dead clip out of a cooked session.
Some days you stack clips.
Some days you stack sunburns
