huevos
Wed 5/24/06, 2:50PM
Disclaimer: As usual the ADHD challenged should just hit the back button and go about their day. You’re not gonna get any play by play from me today. I am to the racers’ forum what Rooney is to 60 minutes. No hard reporting from me, I’ll leave that to the other guys. Mine’s a somewhat of an esoteric rant of a race report.
It’s been a while. I’ve been out twice since my last report but hadn’t felt very inspired and certainly had nothing very interesting to say. No adventures in the pimps n’ ho’s genre and no brushing up with the local cave dwelling fauna at the Tipsy Bull lately. Nope. I have to say that I’ve been in somewhat of a mental slump when it comes to racing.
As anyone who has read my previous reports would know, racing and I have this tenuous relationship. We flirt constantly, sometimes get pretty hot and heavy, occasionally get all mushy and introspective, but at no point can we seem to cross the threshold into the realm of a serious committed relationship.
Racing is the mistress who I have a fling with on the weekend knowing full well that I can’t get caught out...that I have to return to my real life come Monday...and I don’t want anything interfering with that.
My son coming onto the scene was huge. He has been the nidus for a tremendous amount of change both internal and external. I’m much better off these days because of him and a much better person these days out of respect for him.
My career has been progressing quite nicely and along with that so has an evolving sense of accountability and an inherent need to protect what I’ve worked for.
I don’t feel like such an adolescent these days, and that’s a good thing. For those of you that don’t know me...well...I just turned thirty-seven in February...and, oh... I’m an e.r. physician. I finally got a full time attending gig with the county hospital after five years of busting my ass moonlighting in their E.R. to get my foot in the door. I’m feeling pretty good about work these days.
Problem is lately I haven’t felt as care free as I used to when I’m out on the grid. I’ve found myself thinking more and more about how much I hope that nothing bad happens. My first serious crash in November probably has something to do with it. I don’t want anything taking me away from my son.
The last couple of times out were sort of depressing. I even felt a little guilty for being out there. Now, I don’t expect any of you twenty-somethings to understand because I’m sure as hell that I wouldn’t have fifteen years ago. But the sad truth is that none of my cohorts understand why I would want to race a motorcycle and some of them, my close friends surprisingly, recently (the night before I raced in April) revealed how objectionable they found what they perceived to be a blatant disregard for my obligations to myself, my son, my patients, my community, etc...they were drunk at the time but you know what they say about drunks.
So there I am in April. Uncomfortable as hell. Kurt Whittington takes the wins in 550 and lightweight twins with some serious conviction and I’m out there slow as hell, tiptoeing around the track. We started racing about the same time a couple years ago: he’s progressed, I haven’t. I remember asking him that day what he did differently during a race that he didn’t do in practice because his times dropped through the floor that day come race time. He said something along the lines of this: “I don’t push it in practice, you don’t want to crash in practice, that would be lame. But come race time, you're going for the win and if you crash doing it...well... that’s racing.”
“Well...that does it! Fuck it!” I thought. “I’m not gonna do this shit anymore, I‘m never gonna be any good at it. I’m never gonna be fast because I don‘t like crashing. And if I can‘t be fast what‘s the fucking point? I mean...its called racing for a reason.”
“Yeah...fuck it...this racing bullshit can kiss my ass and go to hell.”
Sitting there in the pits, moping around, it hit me like a fucking bolt of lightning...the point, that is.
I didn’t start doing this because I wanted to win trophies, or because I needed to impress anyone, or because of some mid-life crisis. I started this because ever since I was a little kid I wanted to race around on a motorcycle. I remember the Lambert’s from across the street when I was a little kid and their garage full of dirtbikes with numberplates and how they’d all pile into the motorhome on the weekends and take off. I remember getting to go along a couple of times and just being mesmerized by the fact that there was actually something else you could do on a Saturday morning besides watch cartoons at the age of seven. I remember stealing my uncle’s bike when I was in junior college and going for long joyrides. I spent hours lusting over that piece of shit ‘82 650 Nighthawk when he was around, like a gardener lusting over the trophy wife prancing around the pool in her bikini. The minute he was outta town I’d pounce on it and, man...it was better than bad sex! My uncle knew all along what I was doing, he just let it happen.
So after what seemed like a lifetime of school and being poor I finally got my first bike in ‘00. A lil’ ol’ SV650. Man that thing scared the shit out of me at first. I almost wadded it up the first week I had it. Mom was outraged, “ Your six months from finishing your residency , what are you thinking, Stevie?”
“What are you thinking? Jesus Christ dude!” was the response from my best friend when I asked him to come out with me my first time out and explained that I would be racing a motorcycle around the track that day and that he would be my pit crew.
“Your not thinking of continuing are you?” was what one of my colleagues asked me when I ended up in my own emergency room after my crash in November.
Sitting there at the end of the day in pit lane at WSIR in April ‘06, I'm thinking, "I worked hard to get here and I deserve it."
Being out at the track, racing the motorcycle I never had all through my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood...this too is part of the fruits of my labor. I don’t need to be the fastest, I don’t need to win, I’ve already won just by being here. I get so much from just being out there. Quoting myself from a race report two years ago its evident even though it sounds corny:
“Suffice to say, racing only adds to my life and my view of who and what I am...in a huge way. Inner strength, courage, determination, skill, judgment, insight, discipline, planning, commitment, decisiveness, confidence,...and even...restraint. These are only some of the qualities that racing allows me to bring out and explore every time I'm out on the track.”
So I got up and walked over to the grill and bought a large beer. I loaded up bike and all my shit and then cracked open the beer and savored it. I was in mourning and yet I had a big smile on my face. I could now add ‘maturity” to that list of qualities that racing brings out in me. I was able to say goodbye to the notion that I had to be ultrafast in order to be there and retain legitimacy. I said goodbye to the notion that I had to strive constantly to best those around me, that a podium was the obligatory goal. I embraced the fact that I was a father. I embraced the fact that I was a successful professional with obligations and responsibilities and that these were not hindrances but rather what allowed me to be out there in the first place. I embraced the fact that I race for different reasons than maybe the next person does and that my focus needed to be different because of this. I embraced the fact that no matter what place I came in or how fast I was or wasn’t... it didn’t matter. I was out there taking care of that little kid that used to stare across the street at the Lambert’s garage full of motorcycles, and soon I’d be in a place to share that with another little kid called my son. The key was balance.
So I went home. Over the next month I got a million and a half in life insurance, took care of disability coverage, started my new job, and came back to the track this May feeling a lot less guilty and nervous. I even had my 18 month old son out there rooting me on (actually, all he wanted to do was play around in the dirt).
I did quite well. I had a lot of fun. I felt very comfortable out there. I didn’t feel like I was pushing it or taking any unnecessary chances. I was in the 136’s on my best laps. 139-140’s on my worst. I got to dice it up with Steven Brefka in BOTT middles and had an interesting little race with Tom Shao and J.C. Gibbs in 550. Quite close quarters with Gibbs but I still felt safe because I knew exactly when to pull the plug and felt comfortable doing it safely. I don’t even remember what happened in Formula Twins Lightweight because I was having so much fun and not feeling guilty about it. I even remember coming over turn six in the middle of the race thinking, “Gee, I haven’t been paying much attention to what’s going on. What am I gonna talk about in my race report?” Two 10th places and a 12th I think in FTL.
So this may was somewhat of a rekindling of the flame. I don’t ever think I’ll get into the low 30’s like most of the front runners in 550 or FTL but hey that’s okay. I need to practice more consistently, if not to go faster at least to feel more confident, get smoother and be even safer as a racer for the sake of the other riders on the track. Maybe a second or two could come off if I lose some weight, which I am trying to do. Who knows?
I’m looking forward to the rest of the season after the next month off. Gonna take my son to meet his great grandfather in Texas.
In the end, my mistress isn’t so much of a mistress anymore. I don’t plan on leaving the life and kid for her and yet I don’t want to say goodbye just yet. If it turns out we can still be good friends, then hanging out once a month and just having a good time is more than enough because she is still fun and sexy as hell and I can’t help but feel good when I’m around her.
By the way, I promise a little more detail as far as the play by play goes next time around...maybe a little pimp n‘ ho action as well if your lucky. For now, I’m a tired out and you are probably as well.
‘Til next time,
Stevan
edit- i just checked, actually it was 10th in bott, 11th in 550 and FTL
It’s been a while. I’ve been out twice since my last report but hadn’t felt very inspired and certainly had nothing very interesting to say. No adventures in the pimps n’ ho’s genre and no brushing up with the local cave dwelling fauna at the Tipsy Bull lately. Nope. I have to say that I’ve been in somewhat of a mental slump when it comes to racing.
As anyone who has read my previous reports would know, racing and I have this tenuous relationship. We flirt constantly, sometimes get pretty hot and heavy, occasionally get all mushy and introspective, but at no point can we seem to cross the threshold into the realm of a serious committed relationship.
Racing is the mistress who I have a fling with on the weekend knowing full well that I can’t get caught out...that I have to return to my real life come Monday...and I don’t want anything interfering with that.
My son coming onto the scene was huge. He has been the nidus for a tremendous amount of change both internal and external. I’m much better off these days because of him and a much better person these days out of respect for him.
My career has been progressing quite nicely and along with that so has an evolving sense of accountability and an inherent need to protect what I’ve worked for.
I don’t feel like such an adolescent these days, and that’s a good thing. For those of you that don’t know me...well...I just turned thirty-seven in February...and, oh... I’m an e.r. physician. I finally got a full time attending gig with the county hospital after five years of busting my ass moonlighting in their E.R. to get my foot in the door. I’m feeling pretty good about work these days.
Problem is lately I haven’t felt as care free as I used to when I’m out on the grid. I’ve found myself thinking more and more about how much I hope that nothing bad happens. My first serious crash in November probably has something to do with it. I don’t want anything taking me away from my son.
The last couple of times out were sort of depressing. I even felt a little guilty for being out there. Now, I don’t expect any of you twenty-somethings to understand because I’m sure as hell that I wouldn’t have fifteen years ago. But the sad truth is that none of my cohorts understand why I would want to race a motorcycle and some of them, my close friends surprisingly, recently (the night before I raced in April) revealed how objectionable they found what they perceived to be a blatant disregard for my obligations to myself, my son, my patients, my community, etc...they were drunk at the time but you know what they say about drunks.
So there I am in April. Uncomfortable as hell. Kurt Whittington takes the wins in 550 and lightweight twins with some serious conviction and I’m out there slow as hell, tiptoeing around the track. We started racing about the same time a couple years ago: he’s progressed, I haven’t. I remember asking him that day what he did differently during a race that he didn’t do in practice because his times dropped through the floor that day come race time. He said something along the lines of this: “I don’t push it in practice, you don’t want to crash in practice, that would be lame. But come race time, you're going for the win and if you crash doing it...well... that’s racing.”
“Well...that does it! Fuck it!” I thought. “I’m not gonna do this shit anymore, I‘m never gonna be any good at it. I’m never gonna be fast because I don‘t like crashing. And if I can‘t be fast what‘s the fucking point? I mean...its called racing for a reason.”
“Yeah...fuck it...this racing bullshit can kiss my ass and go to hell.”
Sitting there in the pits, moping around, it hit me like a fucking bolt of lightning...the point, that is.
I didn’t start doing this because I wanted to win trophies, or because I needed to impress anyone, or because of some mid-life crisis. I started this because ever since I was a little kid I wanted to race around on a motorcycle. I remember the Lambert’s from across the street when I was a little kid and their garage full of dirtbikes with numberplates and how they’d all pile into the motorhome on the weekends and take off. I remember getting to go along a couple of times and just being mesmerized by the fact that there was actually something else you could do on a Saturday morning besides watch cartoons at the age of seven. I remember stealing my uncle’s bike when I was in junior college and going for long joyrides. I spent hours lusting over that piece of shit ‘82 650 Nighthawk when he was around, like a gardener lusting over the trophy wife prancing around the pool in her bikini. The minute he was outta town I’d pounce on it and, man...it was better than bad sex! My uncle knew all along what I was doing, he just let it happen.
So after what seemed like a lifetime of school and being poor I finally got my first bike in ‘00. A lil’ ol’ SV650. Man that thing scared the shit out of me at first. I almost wadded it up the first week I had it. Mom was outraged, “ Your six months from finishing your residency , what are you thinking, Stevie?”
“What are you thinking? Jesus Christ dude!” was the response from my best friend when I asked him to come out with me my first time out and explained that I would be racing a motorcycle around the track that day and that he would be my pit crew.
“Your not thinking of continuing are you?” was what one of my colleagues asked me when I ended up in my own emergency room after my crash in November.
Sitting there at the end of the day in pit lane at WSIR in April ‘06, I'm thinking, "I worked hard to get here and I deserve it."
Being out at the track, racing the motorcycle I never had all through my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood...this too is part of the fruits of my labor. I don’t need to be the fastest, I don’t need to win, I’ve already won just by being here. I get so much from just being out there. Quoting myself from a race report two years ago its evident even though it sounds corny:
“Suffice to say, racing only adds to my life and my view of who and what I am...in a huge way. Inner strength, courage, determination, skill, judgment, insight, discipline, planning, commitment, decisiveness, confidence,...and even...restraint. These are only some of the qualities that racing allows me to bring out and explore every time I'm out on the track.”
So I got up and walked over to the grill and bought a large beer. I loaded up bike and all my shit and then cracked open the beer and savored it. I was in mourning and yet I had a big smile on my face. I could now add ‘maturity” to that list of qualities that racing brings out in me. I was able to say goodbye to the notion that I had to be ultrafast in order to be there and retain legitimacy. I said goodbye to the notion that I had to strive constantly to best those around me, that a podium was the obligatory goal. I embraced the fact that I was a father. I embraced the fact that I was a successful professional with obligations and responsibilities and that these were not hindrances but rather what allowed me to be out there in the first place. I embraced the fact that I race for different reasons than maybe the next person does and that my focus needed to be different because of this. I embraced the fact that no matter what place I came in or how fast I was or wasn’t... it didn’t matter. I was out there taking care of that little kid that used to stare across the street at the Lambert’s garage full of motorcycles, and soon I’d be in a place to share that with another little kid called my son. The key was balance.
So I went home. Over the next month I got a million and a half in life insurance, took care of disability coverage, started my new job, and came back to the track this May feeling a lot less guilty and nervous. I even had my 18 month old son out there rooting me on (actually, all he wanted to do was play around in the dirt).
I did quite well. I had a lot of fun. I felt very comfortable out there. I didn’t feel like I was pushing it or taking any unnecessary chances. I was in the 136’s on my best laps. 139-140’s on my worst. I got to dice it up with Steven Brefka in BOTT middles and had an interesting little race with Tom Shao and J.C. Gibbs in 550. Quite close quarters with Gibbs but I still felt safe because I knew exactly when to pull the plug and felt comfortable doing it safely. I don’t even remember what happened in Formula Twins Lightweight because I was having so much fun and not feeling guilty about it. I even remember coming over turn six in the middle of the race thinking, “Gee, I haven’t been paying much attention to what’s going on. What am I gonna talk about in my race report?” Two 10th places and a 12th I think in FTL.
So this may was somewhat of a rekindling of the flame. I don’t ever think I’ll get into the low 30’s like most of the front runners in 550 or FTL but hey that’s okay. I need to practice more consistently, if not to go faster at least to feel more confident, get smoother and be even safer as a racer for the sake of the other riders on the track. Maybe a second or two could come off if I lose some weight, which I am trying to do. Who knows?
I’m looking forward to the rest of the season after the next month off. Gonna take my son to meet his great grandfather in Texas.
In the end, my mistress isn’t so much of a mistress anymore. I don’t plan on leaving the life and kid for her and yet I don’t want to say goodbye just yet. If it turns out we can still be good friends, then hanging out once a month and just having a good time is more than enough because she is still fun and sexy as hell and I can’t help but feel good when I’m around her.
By the way, I promise a little more detail as far as the play by play goes next time around...maybe a little pimp n‘ ho action as well if your lucky. For now, I’m a tired out and you are probably as well.
‘Til next time,
Stevan
edit- i just checked, actually it was 10th in bott, 11th in 550 and FTL