Spooky Cross

Sometimes I feel like I'm getting really fast.  Then there are other times where I feel like I'm getting really slow.  Still, there are other times where I'm getting my "rad" on in a race and I feel like I'm absolutely unstoppable, until I die.  This year's Spooky Cross, held in the most beautiful of all cities, Pomona, at the LA County Fairgrounds was one such occasion, and oh, an occasion it was.

I go up stairs so nicely.

 "Dude, your socks are sweet.  We're sock triplets"
Said the one dude hanging out with the other dude who both had the same exact pair of 7 inch, Embrocation Cycling Journal socks.  We pretty much felt super badass and New Englander with such socks.  And so we sat in staging, talking shit and booing anyone with a call-up because, "We're so much faster than those guys."

When the gun went off we blasted through an isolated start outside of the fairgrounds.  Set-up for 100 mph flat track motorcycle racing, we came around near the turn 4 exit and ramped up the speed through the front stretch and start finish line.  Into a headwind we went, as this would prove to be an important stretch on the course where drafting was crucial throughout.  Near the speedway's exit of turn 2, the course took us into the infield, where we did our fair share of meandering and cat 3 bar-banging.

It was at this point that I realized I was actually RACING BIKES which is pretty much the COOLEST THING EVER!  EVER!  I counted quickly, "1, 2, 3, 4, .....9!"

8 dudes were in front of me!  I was the 9th.  A quick check of calculation and...yes, yes I was actually in 9th place!  Oh man!  I've surely made it now.

Laps 1 and 2
As if I knew exactly what I was doing (I always do) I sat on wheels and spun that beast of a Spooky inside the top ten.  And it was great.  And at the completion of lap 1, I noticed a blur of determination riding away from our little group that had grown to 14.  Could it be?  Yes, yes it was.  It was Logan FREAKING Fiedler riding the hell away from everyone sporting an incredibly sexy new kit, riding for the Spy-Giant team.  Damn.  He's only been not riding, at all, for a few months.  So of course he's just gonna drop 9 or 10 or 60 dudes and leave us.  As quickly as he arrived to the party, he departed.  Damn you, Logan.  And damn your Giants.  Just kidding.  But seriously.

Middle Laps
Because I was actually "Racing Bikes at the Front" I finally got to experience what real racers do in a cross race: pin.  it.  And I pinned it!  Danny Hart style!  Danny stay on your bike!

I was so pegged, in fact, that I blew myself right up.  Right...the hell...up.  And it was good, as this explosion occurred right before the very vertical flyover, and I damn near stalled in front of curious on lookers who were, no doubt, mesmerized by my shiny legs and pink-checkered-80's-fantastic kit of kits.  Please dial up ITSA Bike Shop and talk to Eric.  He'll get you set up.

Did I mention that I was still RACING BIKES??  Well, I was.  Although, it probably looked more like I was practicing bikes but, DAMN IT, top-20 in the biggest cross race of the season in the killer bees is something to be proud of.  I think

Last Lap

BMX style berms were fun, but not BMX-smooth.  Otherwise...BRAAAP!

Somewhere in the blur of the last two laps, or last lap, or whatever, a really fast dude who was getting ready to shred in the UCI race yelled, "How come whenever I see a pink kit, it's way after the race has gone by?"

Somewhere in the blur of the last two laps, I was no longer enjoying racing bikes, or practicing bikes, or playing bikes.

Somewhere, in that blur, I took a gummy bear hand-up.  It was stuck in my molars and in my beard for that final lap.  So embarrassing.  And you know damn well that I didn't let my 25th place finish go to waste.  Narrowly out-sprinting two guys, I made the pass for 25th place with 10 meters to spare.  Phew.  That was a close one.

banana or beer?????

Okay so when you get punked as bad as I did, you have no choice but work on hand-ups.  Beer or banana: thems be your options.

Epic Quotes and Actions from Epic Students

I will update this as more gems flow in, with newer quotes on top of the old ones.

***Disclaimer***
As much as I hate the paperwork side of my job, I care for my students a great deal.  They keep me in the game.  They are wonderful kids that grow up in an area of the city where people literally expect NOTHING of them.  It is difficult for them to adjust to people expecting GREAT things from them, but as I approach knowing some of these kids for 2 years, I'm seeing lots of progress in their self-esteem and their ability to work on tasks that are longer and more involved.  The rad part of this job is, of course, the fact that my students will say WHATEVER comes to mind WHENEVER it comes to mind.  A lot of times, this causes disruption, but every now and then, I have moments where my brain pops out of my head and I realize that the students are just exercising their sense of humor, their joy for life, and their ability to form human bonds with adults.  I love my students and I wish them nothing but the best in life.  However, I cannot resist writing down the funny shit they say.  It's a welcome bonus of my job.

**11/27/2012**

"Hey mister.  People got problems w'ch you?  I take 'em to the low key spot."
Me: "So...I'm sorry...the low key spot?"
"Ya.  You know.  It's the low key spot.  It's like this place where you go to make a hand off or to beat someone up.  Like if you gotta make a hand off you just roll up with like a can of coke and people don't know that you have the top open and that there's money inside and so you hand off the coke and you leave with your lunch bag but no one know's cuz they think you just gettin' lunch."
Me: "sweet."

**10/18/2012**

"Hey mister.  MISTER!  You're the skinniest heavyweight I know!"



10/13/2012
"There's nothing wrong with having a light saber."

"I wish I could go somewhere that is cold with cold water so I could go and swim so that I could go and refresh myself and be cool and go to the liquor store and buy a cold gatorade cuz i'ma bout to be real thirsty."

"Hey mister, my culture is totally firme as shit.  Oh shit sorry for cussing.  Oh shit my bad, I'll just shut up.......fuck."

Me: "I am going to pause our reading at certain points to emphasize specific words."
Student stands, frozen-still, in the middle of the room.
Me: "What are you doing?"
"You paused me.  I'm paused."

"Hey Mister.  The factory where my Dad works. They make, like, dollar bill things there.  Like, they totally not real or whatever, but like they there. I think they're fake or some shit.  But I think you can use 'em, I just think that maybe you might get in trouble or something."

Student singing the American Dad theme aloud as he walks into class: "Good morning USAaaaa, I have a.......oh shit i forgot the rest."

"Hey mister, do you party?"
Me: "Why are you asking me this right now?  We're working on the Do-Now."
"Mister I like to party.  But what's good is that if you drink a lot while you're dancing corridos, you don't get that drunk, so you can still drive home."
Me: "Aren't you 15?"
"No, I have my learners permit.  Plus, I be dancing all night long so I don't even get drunk.  I love dancing corridos."

"Mister, I need to leave really quick.  Where can I put my bag?"
I point over to a cabinet shelf, which is located next to the trash can by the door.
"Really mister, I don't wanna put it there."
Me: "Just set it down dude, you'll be back in 5 minutes."
"Uhhh, okay."
Students throws backpack into the TRASHCAN.

"Hey mister, have you ever had a really bad breakup.  Has your heart ever been hurt?"
Me: "Yes, I've gone through that before.  Are you going through a breakup?"
"Ya.  It sucks (starts to cry).  She totally cheated on me.  She said that she never wants to talk to me again.  But I love her.  I think I'm going to ask her out again after school."
Me: "I don't think you should do that.  Just focus on your schoolwork and hang out with your guy-friends and enjoy your life.  Does she even go to this school?"
"No, she goes to a school really far away."
Me: "Well that's nice, at least you don't have to see her everyday.  You can make new friends and focus on getting passing grades."
"But I do have to see her every day!!!"
Me: "Whoa.  Easy.  And why is that?"
"Because I always sketch pictures of her face on my papers."
Me: "Yaaaaaaa, so you should probably not continue doing that because, you know, that's not really healthy.... at all."
"I know.  But it hurts so bad.  I'm never going to find anyone else.  She was my soulmate."
Me: "Ya, well, I mean, you know it's okay to think she was your soulmate.  But have you ever thought about how many people there are?  You live in the second largest city in America.  Okay, so hold up on the crying for a second.  I think you'll be fine."
"No, I'm not!!  She was my first!!  I totally popped her......."
Me: "WHOAAAAAA!!! Aaaaaand we're done.  Let's go back inside."

Writing sample: "If I would choice somebody for president I would choice my brother because I know he will say dont do nothing and kick back just go play some ps3 sir."

Orange County World Championships

Race Reports???  You LOVE 'em!

Random analysis of things that you were not present to witness?  POR SUPUESTO!!

Mindless Rambling?!?!?!  Hell yes!

How We Roll in SoCal

Because if it's pouring rain in Gloucester, MA, then it's gotta be 95 degrees for the Southern California Cyclocross Prestige Series.  Dust?  Of Course.  And it's a damn good thing I washed my truck before parking in a dusty, dirty parking lot because, you know, I love wasting my time.

The course was a perfect example of Southern California and our awesome cyclocross scene.  Located at a park not too far from the Pacific, it had a combination of goat head infested, dry-shrub riddled, small-rock littered, massive-potential-fire-hazards-everywhere surrounding dirt walking trails combined with wonderfully humid and sloggy city park grass.  Being that California is dry as hell, in a drought, and generally sucking in the department of "having money," it makes sense that parks across the state still choose to water their grass in the early mornings.  For a cross racer, this means you get to enjoy power-sucking, slow, tedious grass sections with a delightful side of humid evaporation rising up during the hottest parts of the day.  Aside from a truly minor, petty grievance, we were treated to a course that was a blast, challenging, and fair for everyone.  Everything there was distinctly Southern Californian, and on a day like it was, with the conditions and weather, I would put our racing up against anything in the nation.

Please Check Your Shit

It's no wonder that I'm still rambling through the 3's: I prepare like one.  It's a two hour drive from San Diego (I was visiting the family in Alpine) to Costa Mesa.  Naturally, I left myself exactly 2 hours to make the commute.

Gosh, sure hope I don't hit traffic (I didn't).  Really hope I don't have to do any bike maintenance or anything like that at the last minute (Ass).

After throwing on my race wheels I stumbled upon the fact that my shifting was WAY off.  So, naturally, I decided I was going to fix that thing and get to the line.  (editor's note: Matt, you seriously suck at working on bikes.  Seriously. Worse than you suck at working on motorcycles which, by comparison, are far more complex.  Even when you know what you're doing, you find a way to botch the job.  Stick to cooking...please).  No way.  Instead, the shifting got worse.  Worse, due to my handy-work.  Worse.  Wooooorrrrrrrrrse.  And before I could tighten up my Sidis, I realized that my shifted was screwed.  Because of me!

Whoever the mechanic was who wrenched my bike into PRO form in less than 30 seconds, I hope that the money I gave you was enough.  You are a genius.  You are amazing.  But I hate you.  You make me feel dumb.  So I hope that the money I gave you burnt up in your pocket.  Or that someone stole it from you.  Or that you spent it on gas.

That is all.

West Coast Slackers or: Why I Hate Call-Up Poachers

See what I did there?  Ya?  A little Dr. Strangelove??  Ya?  Kubrick??  Ok.

Call-ups are call-ups for a reason.  You simply do not take another rider's spot.  So when dipshit #1 rolls into the other rider's space on the front row, confusion ensues. 60 other anxious, dangerous, and otherwise unconcerned cat. 3 riders have surged to fill the space, and we're stuck with two dudes trying to negotiate a switch of positions: the call-up rider to the front, and the attempted poacher to move back. It would make sense that the "sooner" moved his way in front of me, essentially pushing me from row 2 to row 3.  You bastard.

The Course in Orange County (Where's Jack Black?)

There was so much gnar being shredded that
my radness could not be contained.

The start took us over the fastest, smoothest grass found on the course.  500 meters down followed by a left-handed hairpin and 500 meters back.  Winding through grass and sand and hardpack, we eventually ended up in a higher-speed downhill section to sandpit where, of course, cat. 3 skills were on display: swerving, riders too far forward, endos, wash-outs.  Pretty much everything that makes cross racing exciting occurred here.  Even I managed to throw in some style points with a wheelie or 5 coming out of the pit.  After sprinting over a short, yet surprisingly brutal run-up and we were thrusted onto the mesa, weaving through an interesting connection of single track and off-camber mounds.  These mounds were surprisingly tricky and rewarded a patient rider who made consistent line choices and carried as much speed as possible.  A short flat section brought riders to the BMX bowl (aka: the style section).  Anytime I get an opportunity to air out the cross bike, I will take it, and the number of boosters in this section had me forgetting about the pain each lap.  Over to more slow grass, barriers and more grass, and you've completed a relatively long lap at the OCCX.

So, You're Proud of Going to UC Riverside???

And when it gets singletrack, lined out for a mile in the top-20, you have to be curious as to why a rider from UC Riverside decided to chop wheels in an apparent attempt to advance position, only to give it all back as soon as a turn or dismount was required.

UCR guy: (chopping wheels in the singletrack): oh, sorry.
Me: ooookay, huff huff huff pant pant.
UCR guy: (going backwards, slamming into bars, elbows, shoulders hips): oh, shit.
Me: really dooood??
UCR guy not taking the slippery corners very well, gapping us out: Shit!
Me: are you FUCKING KIDDING ME???

And it was all great for this guy because, you know, he eventually recovered and totally gapped us, Powers-style.

And lo, there was peace, epic hammering, and awesomeness for some time.

But sometime doesn't last all the time, which is why I was so delightfully happy to see this dude dragging an anchor across the OC dirt and carrying a piano on his back halfway through the last lap.  I smiled as we went by; him hopeless to respond.  Cross is an aggressive sport, to be sure, but there's no need for this silliness at our level.

#crossclash

Pedal, Damn You!!!!

It looks like I will again be battling for top 10s.  And when I say battling, I mean FLOGGING myself.  It was cool to see some improvement in late race finishing over last year (in which i was nursing myself across the line to save a 7th or 15th or whatever).  I legitimately caught a group of 3 in the final lap, and if not for missing my pedals 20,000,000,000,000 times over the final barrier section, I might have been able to catch that group and sprint it out with them.  It looks like the boys from pegasus will be around my speed this year, as well as a few others, so it should be a great season to make new friends with them and to have epic cross battles.

Still no idea where I finished.  Results were a bit confused, but such is life.  We have a wonderful series in SoCal with an amazing director and fantastic volunteers.  I'm hoping for a nice top - 15, but we'll see.