He hates second place. He really, actually hates it. After Stage 6 of the 2025 Tour de France, Quinn Simmons stood by the road, looking like a man who’d just lost a lot more than a bike race. "No one remembers second place tomorrow," he snapped. That basically sums up the whole vibe around the kid from Durango. He’s not here to be your favorite rider’s favorite rider. He’s here to blow the race apart, or blow up trying.
The Durango Engine and the Anti-Peloton Attitude
The thing about quinn simmons cycling culture is that it doesn't really fit into the modern, "marginal gains" box. Most guys in the WorldTour today are like robots. They look at their power meters, they eat their weighed-out rice, and they give the most boring interviews you've ever heard. "The team worked well, my legs were okay, we'll see tomorrow." Yawn.
Simmons is different. He grew up in Durango, Colorado, which is basically a factory for endurance freaks. But he didn't grow up in a "cycling school." He was a ski mountaineer first. He won a bronze medal at the world championships in that sport before he ever cared about a peloton. His dad, Scott, treated him more like a training partner than a son. There were no "coffee rides." It was full gas or stay home.
That background created a rider who approaches a 200km road race like a bar fight. Honestly, it’s refreshing. You’ve got this guy who skipped the U23 ranks entirely—jumped straight from juniors to the pros—because he was simply too strong to wait.
Why the "Rockstar" Label Actually Fits
People call him a rockstar, and it’s not just the hair or the occasional mullet. It’s the aggression. In the 2022 Tour de France, he spent over 600 kilometers in breakaways. Think about that. That is hundreds of miles of riding into the wind, usually for zero reward other than "visibility" for the sponsors. Most riders would find that exhausting and pointless. Simmons treats it like a guitar solo.
- The Power: He doesn't have the best "watts per kilo" for the big mountains, but his raw engine is terrifying.
- The Volume: He trains 30 hours a week. Every week. No shortcuts.
- The Diet: He’s been open about weighing every gram of food, but also about the "loopiness" that comes with pro cycling's relationship with calories.
He’s one of the few guys who will tell a reporter that cycling is "boring for a 15-year-old watching at home." He thinks the sport lacks characters. He wants the drama of Formula 1. He wants rivalries where people actually dislike each other, rather than the "we're all friends" vibe that dominates the current era of Tadej Pogačar and Jonas Vingegaard.
Dealing with the Noise
You can’t talk about quinn simmons cycling culture without mentioning the friction. He’s polarizing. He knows it. He probably likes it a little bit.
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In 2025, during the Tour, he was fuming after Stage 15. He felt his Lidl-Trek team was stifling him, making him work for Jonathan Milan when he felt he had the legs to win. Then there was the "motorbike incident." He claimed Tim Wellens only won because he drafted off a TV moto. Wellens basically told him his legs were just better. It was messy, public, and exactly what Simmons says the sport needs: actual emotion.
Some fans can’t stand him because of his past social media controversies or his "loud" American persona. Others love him because he’s the only person in the break who isn't looking at a computer screen. He’s a throwback to a time when racing was done on feel and grit rather than algorithms.
The 2026 Outlook and the Winter Dream
So, where is he now? As of early 2026, Simmons is doubling down. He’s still with Lidl-Trek, and his schedule is built around the big one-day races like Strade Bianche and the Amstel Gold Race. He’s looking for that one "Big Win" that silences the critics who say he’s all show and no go.
But the wildest part? He’s already looking past the bike. He’s talked openly about wanting to compete in the Winter Olympics in 2034 for ski mountaineering. He wants to be a dual-sport threat. It’s an insane goal, but for a guy who thinks pro cycling is too safe and too quiet, it’s perfectly on brand.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Riders
If you want to understand the Simmons method, you have to look at how he trains and races. It’s about high-volume resilience.
- Stop overcomplicating the tech. Simmons is a "big basics" guy. He doesn't do the trendy morning runs or the fancy gym work. He just rides his bike for 30 hours. If you want to get fast, you have to do the work.
- Learn to suffer alone. Most of his best performances come from solo training blocks at altitude in Colorado. There’s a mental toughness that comes from not having a group to hide in.
- Accept that second sucks. You don't have to be as "salty" as Quinn after a loss, but adopting the mindset that a race is for winning—not just finishing—changes how you ride.
Modern cycling is currently in a "golden age" of talent, but it’s often a very sterile one. Whether you love the mullet or hate the attitude, Quinn Simmons makes sure that when you turn on the TV, something is actually happening. He’s the reminder that beneath the aerodynamics and the carbon fiber, there’s still a place for raw, unhinged American power.
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To truly follow the 2026 season, keep an eye on the breakaway gaps in the Spring Classics. If there's a guy in a stars-and-stripes jersey refusing to pull through or attacking when it makes zero tactical sense, you’ve found him. And you probably won't be able to look away.