Wednesday, January 14, 2015


Maybe riding a motorcycle as fast as possible comes easy for those blessed with talent, they certainly make it look that way. I have always found it a mentally challenging endeavour (did I just say I was mentally challenged?). I guess if it was easy, it might get boring.

I am running to the bushes to piss every five minutes while waiting to be called for the V6 lightweight race. Any racer who tells you he doesn't get butterflies beforehand is full of shit. The difference is in how we handle it. I knew a racer that would go inside his van with earplugs on, lie down and nap until just before first call. Some guys want to get up in your face and play head games: "how is your bike running? I thought I saw it puff some smoke when I was behind you in practice." "How is your shoulder feeling after the last round? Man that was a nasty crash!" Others get so high strung that they will lash out at anyone and anything for any ridiculous perceived injustice, making them very hard to be around. I think most just try to remain calm. I don't even try. I simply accept the fact that the worst part of the day is the waiting until the green flag drops. I let the nervousness and butterflies have their time in the sun before the race. Instead of forcing the anxiety down, I let it wash over me. I run to the restroom ten thousand times, fidget, check the bike again and again.

On a good day, I can formulate a plan for the race, a plan for each corner, a plan for situations I might encounter. It's easier to have this done in advance than to try and make one up on the fly. On a bad day I simply sit there nauseous drinking as much water as possible until it's time to go pee again. It never gets any easier.

Racin' is hard! The author after too many laps at PIRC

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