Season's Dawn

We tend to think of life as being a long journey, consisting of stages, tribulations, milestones and moments.  A race season is much like that, lasting eight months for some of us in the southern regions.  It begins with fresh hope and excitement, a clean slate, a new plan.  If a racer has enough luck and talent, he soon finds his groove and gets down to the business of winning.  Without both of them in abundance, the struggle ensues.

Bike problems, brain problems, injuries are among the countless obstacles queueing up to besiege the hapless competitor.  Eight months of that can rattle anyone's confidence and reduce focus to a blurry memory.

Championship wins are born out of consistency and commitment.  Motorcycle sprint racing championships require balls to the wall commitment, going fast for those eight to ten laps, those twenty or so intense minutes, without falling down.  Then being able to do it consistently twelve, twenty, thirty times a season, again, without falling down, or at least not doing it very often.  Even after managing all that, you still have to do it faster than the best guy, who is trying his damndest to do it faster than you.  What a glorious mindfuck!

March approached like a prowling lion, soon my mindfuck would begin.

The FZR, ready to race.