cycloWHAT?

Shedd Park - My Side of the Story.

I feel it is only fair I defend myself after reading Colin’s outlandish claims regarding our Shedd Park Showdown on his BLOG.

I didn’t sleep Saturday night, at all. I had a sore throat. My dog got run over by a car the morning of the race. My BB30 sealed bearings were seized up. I wanted Carl Ring to have the opportunity to use his “clever” heckles. My right shoe was a little tight. I forgot to inflate my tires before the race. I didn’t get to warm up. I had no derailleur on my bike. I tore my groin running to registration. I didn’t care. I had diarrhea. My skinsuit was too tight. My hands were cold. I was hungry. I forgot to eat dinner. I’m allergic to everything, and had a reaction to it. I felt bad for Colin. I wanted my teammates to get the glory for once. I forgot to pedal. My handlebar tape didn’t feel tight enough. I had a little tuft of hair getting in my eyes.

So, take it for what it is, but I don’t really think anyone would have raced well under these conditions.

2 months ago - read more...

Not Much to Report.

Two things:

1. I rode my bike for almost four hours on Saturday. I think this was the longest ride I’ve done since the Ride on Washington. Yeah, that’s a link to my own blog. Meh. I don’t even know when that ride was, but I remember being cold and my knee hurting.

2. My saddle was pointing up a little on Saturday. But I don’t even care anymore. What difference does it make, you know? Either way, we have some problems here.

3. The CrossResults Race Predictor is playing games with my mind.

I really appreciate this, Colin Reuter, but it’s probably not true. There is a glitch in your matrix, dawwwwwwg.

4. The CrossResults Race Predictor is playing games with my mind.


I really appreciate this, Colin Reuter, but it’s probably not true. There is a glitch in your matrix, dawwwwwwg. And how is Toby Wells still a Cat 3? CHEATER.

To be honest, I’m just glad I made it into the Gloucester Races, considering they are 10 miles from my house. Thanks to a parent of a new teammate (moron this later), I got an email to my iPhone 3G at 2:01 ET that 91 of 125 slots were filled since the 12:00PM registration opening.

That’s ridiculous. ly good for the sport.

Until I have nothing else to write…keep the meddle to the petal. No idea.


If I were this donkey, I might be asking, “I’m the jackass?”

6 months ago - read more...

An Interview with Matt Simpson of Pedro’s.

After weeks of begging, I was finally able to sit down (albeit over the internet and Google Chat) with Matt Simpson of Pedro’s.

Pedro’s, on behalf of Matt’s judgment, is one of the primary backers of Das Pro und The Rookie and he is also responsible for a large portion of the work being put into the Youth Development Program, as you will read more about below.

Matt seems like a man who has been involved in the cycling industry his entire professional career, but as you will soon find out, that is not quite the case.

For your reading pleasure (or not), Part One of the Matt Simpson Interview:


cycloWHAT: Hi!

Matt Simpson: Howdy.

cycloWHAT: Wow, this is exciting, no?

Matt Simpson: For a Sunday night.

cycloWHAT: How many other things are you doing right now?

Matt Simpson: Ha! I was working on a ‘calendar’ project for my daughter! Attention to you now, it’s all about YOU.

cycloWHAT: Yes!

Matt Simpson: Go on…

cycloWHAT: Who are you?

Matt Simpson: Matthew Robert Simpson, the first crowned to British Royal distant family stationed in Africa.

cycloWHAT: And you’re only 37 years old?

Matt Simpson: Unless you know something I don’t?

cycloWHAT: I feel like you’re a lot older than me (I’m 33). How many kids do you have?

Matt Simpson: 4 kids - 4 daughters!

cycloWHAT: Funny, because Pedro’s is all about sustainability and here you are running that company, all the while breeding like mad, inevitably consuming all the Earth’s precious, limited resources.

…waiting…

cycloWHAT: BREEDER.

…waiting…

cycloWHAT: Long answer, eh?

…waiting…

cycloWHAT: I just listened to an entire Brian Eno track waiting for your answer.

…still waiting…

cycloWHAT: Colin Reuter is actually the only person I’ve interviewed to date who responded with acceptable speed.

Matt Simpson: Ha. Well put, but sustainability consists of 3 arms: Let’s see, I have the economic lever covered, because I work in the lucrative bike industry… The social lever - frankly I am an introvert so I have that covered, and then the environmental lever - working on it, something HUGE coming!

cycloWHAT: Whoa.

Matt Simpson: Sorry, Colin who?

cycloWHAT: He doesn’t matter. You were schooled in the US, no?

Matt Simpson: I grew up in Toronto (Canada) and ended up in the U.S. for business school. I worked in London, England during my Junior year, and then graduated into Corporate America in 96!

cycloWHAT: What was your first job?

Matt Simpson: Petro-Chemical industry.

cycloWHAT: Much time for sport then?

Matt Simpson: Nope. I was a collegiate, NCAA Hockey & Lacrosse player - Varsity for 4 years. I turned to running when I met my wife & graduated from school. I ran for 14 years, until a serious running injury. Then I turned to the bike.

cycloWHAT: You were probably a slow runner.

Matt Simpson: I ran a 4:08 mile in early 2000.

cycloWHAT: You sure that wasn’t the 800?

Matt Simpson: How about we run a mile together and you can ask the question again? Say, aren’t you a terrible runner?

cycloWHAT: About as bad as you are a typist.

Matt Simpson: I need to lay off the salt intake. My fingers are swollen. My new coach has me training WAY TOO much, so my salt intake is heavy (like your ass).

{I would have asked who his coach was, but I don’t care, because he probably sucks compared to my coach, Janda Ricci-Munn.}

cycloWHAT: I ran cross country when I was a sophomore in High School. I was not that good. I used to eat a lot of doughnuts before Meets and that was about as helpful as you can imagine.

cycloWHAT: Enough running talk. I hate running. I assume you went to Petro Chem for money more than love of the industry?

Matt Simpson: Money is over-rated. I walked away from a role in my mid 20’s that had me getting paid WAY to much. I had 20+ plants around the world as Global Purchasing Director, and I walked away for my family and to change my life on my terms.

cycloWHAT: Sounds like you were Doctor Evil.

Matt Simpson: You have NO idea. I gave it up for my wife & daughter (one at the time).

cycloWHAT: What was the biggest concern you had that led to your departure from the industry?

Matt Simpson: My biggest concern was making sure my children would respect their father for making tough choices in the face of life. It sounds “deep,” but you have no idea how big of a decision that was. It paid off, though. My oldest daughter still recalls the travel & hours I worked

cycloWHAT: You still work some pretty crazy hours, though, don’t you? I mean, we Tweet each other at 5:00 am…

Matt Simpson: Yes, but on our terms as a family. I think my wife would agree I am pretty committed to my job but I work at it.

Matt Simpson: How much longer for this interview? My wife wants me off for dinner (Sunday night - best dinner).

cycloWHAT: You use your family for leverage a lot. Is that why you keep making babies?

Matt Simpson: Funny - but my theory in life (get ready, it is a simple one) - you can take anything & everything from me in life, so long as I have my wife & girls, “stuff doesn’t matter.”

cycloWHAT: I might report you to domestic services and tell them you beat your kids. That is, depending on how many pairs of those Pedro’s SwiftWick socks you are willing to give me…



Matt Simpson: Careful, my wife worked in social work. She will reverse your offer on you. Socks, what socks?

cycloWHAT: I just saw you “editing” your answer.

Matt Simpson: Huh? How do you edit? If I knew how, believe me I would have edited your questions.

cycloWHAT: Whatever. After Petro Chem you worked with a big Yogurt company, right?

Matt Simpson: Yes, I left Petro Chem and worked locally at a yogurt company right down the road from my house. I sold my car and became a full-time bike commuter.

cycloWHAT: Okay, I see the progression from Oil Bastard to Health and Biking personally. How and why and when did you go to Pedro’s?

Matt Simpson: Pedro’s - simple. I admired the company from afar. I had a friendship with the then CEO, and he needed someone with my operations background. And, it was in the sport I have passion for.

cycloWHAT: I visited Pedro’s the other day and you seem to be surrounded by a**holes. Like on “SpaceBall 1” in “SpaceBalls.”

…awkward silence…

cycloWHAT: I’m kidding. Only Jeff Bramhall.

…awkward silence…

cycloWHAT: And Matt Bracken. And Jim.

…awkward silence…

cycloWHAT: And everyone else.

PART TWO OF THIS INTERVIEW.

1 year ago - read more...

Punchy, Little Climbs - My Ass

Actual email exchange between Colin Reuter and myself two days before the Night Weasels Cometh:

Me: It sounds like it’s going to be hilly.

Him: Yeah, but short and punchy hills, so it’ll be good for a sprinter like you.

Liar!

I decided at some point, for no real reason other than I thought it might be fun, that I would prefer to race in mud.

When I verbalized my thoughts Wilichoski had only replied with, “You think your back hurts now?”

Mud I would get, it appeared, as it rained sporadically during the days leading to this week’s event, The Night Weasels Cometh. Then it poured all day the day of the event. The event’s organizer and jerk of a Cyclowhat.com interviewee is Colin Reuter. I raced one of his events last year as a Cat 4 on a Mountain Bike; The Ice Weasels Cometh.

It would seem Colin has been blessed by the Cyclocross gods, as last year’s Ice Weasels was graced with copious amounts of snow and the inaugural Night Weasels was being flooded by rain and cool, fall temperatures.

I left my house at about 3:00pm. I needed to stop at Wilichoski’s for a pair of Dugast Rhinos and a pair of Challenge Fangos. I hadn’t heard from my other “teammate” since I had told him I wanted to pick up a pair of the team tubulars the day before, but I tried stopping by his house anyway. After standing in the rain on his doorstep for 5 minutes, all the while being barked at by his stupidly named dogs, I eventually gave up on the wheels. As soon as I got in the car I got a text message from him: In Maine.

Sometimes I wish Stu hadn’t let Matt on the team.

I went to Wilichoski’s and looted his garage of two pairs of wheels. I looked around for anything else I might like and he might not realize was missing. If I had wanted a lot of dirty skinsuits that had been lying on the garage floor for an undetermined amount of time, this was a veritable goldmine.

About 90 minutes later I pulled into the parking lot of Ski Ward in Shrewsbury, MA. I was instantly impressed with the amount of organization of the event. The course looked like it would be fun both as a rider and spectator and there was plenty of easy parking.

I parked in a huge puddle.

At registration I was graced with the presence of Ryan “Size 15” Kelly and his unflattering Irish beard. I asked him to walk and talk with me and we discussed the newest LCD Soundsystem Album, Reuter’s poor choice of event music, and Ryan’s new passion for the band, Shit Robot.

Not wanting to leave this gripping conversation, I asked Ryan to continue talking to me while I used the Port-o-Potty. He obliged and I almost broke his nose as I opened to door to the blue box, surprised to see he had been talking to me no more than 3 inches from the door.

I met a Twitter persona, PJ McQuaid, and it went less awkwardly than those introductions typically do. PJ immediately jumped down my throat, accusing me of not yet posting my Gloucester Day 2 recap.

“Not so fast, Pajamas, that shit is live. It might suck, but it’s the reason I’m late for this falsely advertised event.”

PJ quickly and quietly withdrew to the safety of the blue, urine-scented, mini-tower and I went on my way, in no way in particular.

I think I saw Dave “God Bless” Chiu, but that’s forgettable.

Then, like an angel descending from the sky, Lyne Bessette appeared from around the corner. She said something in her indecipherable accent and I just nodded as if I understood. She had wheels for me, I think. And she needed clothing.

“Clothing, you need? Come with me, baby, and get changed in my Ford F 150. We’ll do it together. We’re both married, right? It’ll be our little secret, baby. D’accord?”

I gave Lyne my short-sleeved skinsuit and she gave me a second pair of Rhinos.

I saw Sabatini warming up on the trainer. I called him a pussy, but not loud enough that he could hear. I laughed. I was cold.

I got kitted up, mate, and put on my version of rain pants - North Face Ski Pants. They felt nice.

I rode toward the course and there she was again.

“Bonjour, Lyne, ça va? Tu veux aller rouler sur le parcours?”

“Of course, mon petit chou,” she replied. We would ride in the wet grass together.

“My feet are cold, Lyne, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

With that my warmup was complete and I would retreat to the warmth of anywhere but on my bike.

So it turns out Reuter is an idiot and doesn’t know how to design a course that takes more than 5 minutes for the Cat 4 field to complete. He was informed by Diane Fortini, in what I am considering to have been a conspiracy aimed at stifling my success, that he would have to lengthen the course. Sadly, the only way to lengthen the course was by going further up the hill.

After some tire pressure discussion with Jesse Anthony and a plea for him to work for me in the pits, the Cat 4s finished and we found ourselves with some time to ride the course. I saw Jesse’s brother, Josh “The Real Hole Shot” Anthony and we headed out together. Two corners later we were climbing up Mount Everest, traversing like I did as a child on the steep hills of Block Island. Josh was walking because he had thought bringing a single ring setup with a 42 chain ring would be a good idea at a ski resort. I was laboring in my 39 x 27 and it seemed everyone around me on this easy lap was having a much easier time.

In all fairness, after climbing for 4 of the 5 minutes one needed for the lap, the rest of it was amazingly fun. It wasn’t too muddy - yet - so you could still grab some grip on the grass to the outsides of the corners. I’d give the blow by blow course recount, but I’m already 30 pages deep on this post and I haven’t even started the race yet…Editor, anyone?

During the warm up lap, the course was extended and we headed down to the staging area to still start on time. Impressive work, Reuter. Impressive, indeed.

I was in the second row, directly behind Sabatini. Next to Sabatini was Doug Kennedy, the man I suspected to win the race.

I grabbed Sabatini’s rear tire and asked him, “You sure about that tire pressure?”

Completely forgetting how stupid I am, he looked back at me, panicked. Luckily, for him, the guy next to me laughed and told Sabatini that that was the oldest trick in the book.

I told Kennedy his rear wheel was on backwards and we got the whistle. As we approached the first corner, a few photographers tried to snap some photos and they chose to use their flashes which immediately elicited cries from the field. We were blind. And we were all going to die!

A few people got bogged down in what was already a pretty muddy portion of the course and it was getting single file pretty quickly. There were a few sharp turns before we started the real climb, and people were still jockeying for spots, bumping elbows and riding in the tape. I keep forgetting that this isn’t the road and that when I say, “On your left,” that person is going to move to their left and close the door on you. I need to run silent and run deep.

Yeah, submarines.

I managed to hold a top 5 position over the top of the climb and I felt pretty good. We wound up and down and all around the course until we were at the barriers on the other side of the course. I felt pretty solid over the barriers but then my required mechanical mishap occurred.

Upon remounting and starting to pedal, I didn’t move. I thought I dropped my chain off the chain ring, so I shifted it up and tried to get it on the ring, but it was already on. I couldn’t figure out what was going on, mostly because I could only see the mud that was already caked on my eyeballs. It turned out my chain had slipped into my wheel, behind my 27 cog. I fingered it back onto the cassette and went back about my business, restarting in the top 15.

You can watch me go from good to bad in this Video. Just look for the Banana Shoes…and around :35 to :41 I pedal straight to nowhere on the right side of the frame…Whoops.



I was a little frazzled from this and felt myself getting frantic and before I got a hold of myself I tried to gas it out of a corner and threw the rear wheel out from under me. I realized, after that foolish fall, that it was time to settle back in and just find a tempo and I chose the beginning of lap two to do that.

I was able to pick off a few spots during the next lap and I even found Sabatini who was probably suffering from poor tire pressure…I got around him and moved into the top 12, according to Jake Sisson and Jesse Anthony who were doubling as pit crew and hecklers.

I passed Oscar from Gloucester cleanly.

At the bottom of the hill on lap 3, Colin Reuter’s protege, Ryan White, was on my ass. I didn’t know this until I heard from behind, “Thank God for the 27!” See, I recognized that voice from a recent video from Gloucester Day One, where the rider with the camera yells, at second 35, “I got it on video! Woo Hoo!” His voice was unmistakable. I was laboring a bit and he was talking pretty comfortably. I knew I was fucked. He passed me.

The second half of the race ended up being the exact opposite of the first for me. Once the gaps had been established and everyone was strung out, the race actually became somewhat peaceful. On the back side it was considerably darker than near the finish and it was dead quiet back there. This actually made the climbing almost enjoyable. Almost. It was easy to find your groove and it was nice out there trudging through the mud in the quiet darkness.

Nothing ever changed after I was passed by Ryan White and I just rode around a fun, muddy course, actually listening to the race commentator call the action at the front of the race. It was the best of both worlds; watching (or listening to) the race from a far and also participating.

I ended up with a 10th place finish and I know I couldn’t have stayed with those front guys even if I hadn’t had my mechanical mishap, so I was happy with the finish. And while the mud did hurt my back, I assume it hurt everyone’s back, so there’s that. I think the fun of riding down through the muddy corners far outweighed the back pain from the muddy hills.

All in all, Colin has a knack for organizing fun events and the addition of a weeknight race in early October is a welcome one and I hope this event continues and grows as it deserves.

Looking for some photos of the Night Weasels? Check the links here: http://www.crossresults.com/race/1239#r40182

And there are some photos here.

And I think I might go race BMX on Monday with Rob Bauer. Full face helmet.

1 year ago - read more...

Are You Fucking with Me???

Lately I feel like my “mentors” are fucking with me. All of them. They’re in my head. I’m sure there’s a pretty clear lesson they’re trying to teach me, but so far I don’t get it.

You ever just go to a race knowing it isn’t going to go well? That was Saturday for me. I had shit to do around the house, I had to go to my bastard teammate’s house to get the new team wheels he thought would be better used at his house instead of on my bike during my race. Typical O’Keefe. Grumpy, old fucker is so jaded he tries to ruin everyone else’s day whenever he can.

Example:

Me: Dylan finished 12th today!

Him: Sweet, so he didn’t get any UCI points? Nice.

So after wrestling a cup of coffee out of him, playing with the baby that probably isn’t even his, and looking at his stupid addition he’s building for his in-laws, I finally removed his tentacles from my ball-bag and made my getaway.

My 10:30 departure turned into an 11:00 departure, which then turned into an 11:17 departure because my buddy was stuck in Topsfield Fair traffic. Dirty, fucking scumbag Carnies ripping off little kids. Ick. You ever see that movie where Ellen Page’s Carney parents leave her with Catherine Keener, who locks her in the basement and tortures her? It’s a true story. Check it out. Or don’t. Who cares. Up yours.

But I bet they have donkeys in the petting zoo, so I will probably go one night.

Fast forward to race time and I had actually had a pretty good hour leading to the race. I did discover one problem with my front derailleur on the bike I planned on riding, so I went to the backup bike, Ethel, who has been sitting on the bench since her tumble at the Green Mountain Weekend. As far as I knew, the setup was EXACTLY THE SAME as it was on Fred. My boy.

The quickest explanation of my problem was best summed up by Josh “Hole Shot” Anthony’s roll of his eyes when he saw I was running a 39/44 front ring setup. Apparently a 38 inner will allow for proper shifting. Good to know, since I spent two, back breaking hours trying to dial in my front derailleurs on Wednesday night.

Whatever, Josh. Whatever.

As far as the course for Saturday was concerned, I loved it. Except for what I can assume 99.9% of the people at the race probably thought was 100% retarded. A short, paved downhill start into a right hand turn into lose dirt and ruts. I looked at that, then I considered my fifth row starting position and I knew I was fucked. I’m not sure what the idea was behind the start choice, but in my limited cyclocross experience I am confident in my belief that whoever decided that was a good call might not be very good at making smart decisions.

I missed my call up.

But, being the roadie dickhead that I am, I asked Cory Masson to relinquish his death grip on my starting spot and forced an entire row to shuffle for my wide ass. I was less concerned about the actual start position and more concerned with making sure I got on camera.

To no one’s surprise, there was a crash before the turn onto the dirt and then there were about 500 mini crashes in the dirt. It was nice watching the leaders two turns ahead of us while we walked, ran, and dragged our bikes through the shit pile that is the middle of a 125 person field that was sent downhill into a tight, rutted, dirt chute.

Photo - Rob Bauer/Todd Prekaski

Oddly enough, when the two categories who were the only people capable of handling a start like that raced - the Elite Men and Women - they went down a longer, safer stretch of pavement onto a wider, cleaner turn. It was still a retarded downhill start, so even the Elite Men crashed.

Waaaaahhhhhh. I feel like I make fun of myself for crying about shit in almost every post. I’m so negative some times. I should work on that. You know what might help with that, actually? Winning.

I need to rewind a little bit and recount a short conversation I had with Stu Thorne before the race. We just got some tubulars set up, two pairs of Fangos and two pairs of Rhinos. I had chosen the Fangos and I wanted some tire pressure advice.

“What tire pressure should I run? It’s pretty fucking hard and bumpy out there.”

“What do you weigh again, fat ass?”

“170? 175?”

“Jesus.”

“I’m sorry.”

“35 pounds.”

“You fucking kidding me?”

“Well, I haven’t ridden the course, but the 140 pound guys on our team will probably be riding 32 psi. If you want to keep buying tires, run whatever you want.”

“So I should do 32 front and 34 rear?”

“I’m busy.”

I did what he said, and I think this was a setup. That pressure rode like a skateboard on gravel and halfway through the 3,000 turn, 10 mile course that I barely remember, my road teammate, Ciaran Mangan, chose a line that I didn’t plan on and I overlapped wheels. I over-compensated and I ate shit like I seem to like doing. Straight up and over. I need to back off people in the corners, I’m learning, because there is clearly no definitive line. I keep expecting everyone to go the same way I’m going to go and this isn’t working too well for me.

Adding insult to injury, this bike wasn’t set up the same. Apparently someone had decided to point the tip of Ethel’s saddle straight down at the ground. By straight down at the ground, I mean one notch on the seat bracket level thingy there. And by someone, I mean probably me, but I can’t be sure. I adapt to adverse bike position well, so this only completely wrecked me mentally, two minutes into the race.

I remounted and plowed my way around the course another few times, making up some decent spots, I thought, until at almost exactly minute 30 my back seized up. Again. Like cock, I mean, clockwork. I can’t really describe the pain very well, except to say that it hurts like a bastard and it makes me feel like I’m pushing on two Jell-O sticks for legs. I carried my sorry ass around for another 15 minutes, trying desperately to hold onto my top-25 position.

Smells like beer…photo - Rob Bauer/Todd Prekaski

On the second-to-last lap, I hit one of the ruts in the start section so hard that it rolled my bars forward and jammed my stem to the left. Getting back to what I mentioned about my mentors fucking with me, I decided that if I were to take a bike for something as trivial as this, while riding in the top-25, it would surely warrant mockery and poorly-intentioned comments, so I rode my bike around like that on my rock hard tires, with my rock hard back muscles, and my rock hard…never mind.

I would later learn during the Elite Men’s race that pitting for such a thing is acceptable, as Tim Johnson chose to do so after doing the same thing on the same section of the course. Tim and I, apparently, ride very similarly. We do tend to share a lot of information, but I forgot to tell him about that portion of the course when I was mentally preparing him for his race.

I was so desperate to salvage my finish that I even almost crashed a Cycle-Loft rider who I think is named Oscar. Coming up a tight section to the second-to-last corner, I tried to get inside him. He held his ground and we bumped bars and I nearly rode him into the tape. I heard him ask, “What are you doing?”

I think Oscar’s on my right…photo - Rob Bauer/Todd Prekaski

Although I said nothing, I thought to myself, “Every position counts! Fucking Crossresults.com counts everything!”

Well, it ended up that that fight earned me 22nd place. During cool down, I saw Oscar riding toward me and I shamefully dropped my head in hopes that he might not see me. I’m pretty sure my Banana Shoes gave me away though and he changed direction to come speak with me.

“You really shouldn’t do that, man.”

I had no response, because he was right. But at the same time, 23rd place sucks a shitload more than 22nd! Right? Right?

Post-race depression ensued and I wondered, aloud, to a lot of people, “What’s wrong with my back? It is going to get better? I can’t even pedal! Waaaaahhhhhhh! How do I fix it? Do you have back pain? How’s your bike set up? What’s your stem height? Waaaaahhhhhh. I should stretch.”

“Wah.”

Since I know so much about what I’m doing, I decided to raise my stem one spacer, move my saddle back a few millimeters, tilted my saddle nose up a scooch, and rolled my hoods up a touch. Yup, that would do it for tomorrow. That and 800 mg of ibuprofen before bed and before the race.

Why am I so long-winded? Day 2 tomorrow.

1 year ago - read more...