Tears of Joy and Pain

This morning was the morning of truth.  After not riding for twelve days it was time to get back in the saddle.  Apprehensive I was, I had no idea how this was going to go.  Within a mile I realized I was crying and laughing in my helmet at the same time.  The tears were born of both joy and pain, the laughter was pure release and exhilaration of being back on the bike for all the reasons that we ride.  The freedom, the adrenaline, the wind, the scent, the love of the ride.

Twelve days ago my body started to hurt and I was unsure why and had difficulty with normal movement.  I now know it is because I am Rheumatoid positive.  This is my diagnosis story.

They say hind sight is 20/20.  Well hind sight now allows me to see things I did not see before.  

Sometime back in 2006 or there about I went to Virginia International Raceway for the AMA races.  We worked all day and drove all night to arrive on the raceway grounds and set up camp.  A day spent exploring the raceway, race pits and town on the motorcycle and by nightfall I had been up for nearly 2 days.  We slept in the cold damp tent and forgot to close the peak vent making it stay cool all night.  I recall tossing and turning due to hip pain, a hip pain that is now too familiar, and it taking most of the next day for the stiffness to wear off.  I blamed it all on being overly tired, sore from riding in the car and then a motorcycle for hours and hours, the damp the cold and well getting older.  I never thought about it more than that.  Over the next several years I discovered that I just can't sleep on the ground or in the cold as the same hip pain would be present.  Even in a hotel room with broken air conditioning causing it to be cool or cold would produce the same result.

About 8 months ago I took a day sick out of work.  Most people know, if I take a day out of work, something is up.  I am not a call in sick kind of person.  But I did.  My whole body hurt.  So much so, that I remember telling a co-worker that the sheet on my feet hurt.  I never thought anything of it but passed it off as I must have had the flu or a virus but for some odd reason it did not effect my stomach.  Lucky me!

Thursday June 5th I got home from work (on the bike of course) and sat down for dinner and thought to myself "Gee, my biceps hurt, that's strange because I am lazy.  I don't workout!".  By Friday my body was heavy, a tired heavy and stiff.  On Saturday morning I awoke to pain, everywhere.  Over the next week I had pain in every joint and had difficulty walking but more so difficulty lifting anything, I mean anything…even my coffee cup.  Getting up off the couch was a ten minute chore and I had to scoot to the edge several times before having enough leverage to actual get upright.  Sleeping became difficult as everything hurt and started to burn.  Again I thought well this is strange.  By Monday I thought maybe I had been bitten by a tick and I decided to to Urgent care to get checked.  Seven viles of blood later they sent me home and said we will call you.

They never called.  By Thursday I stopped by the same Urgent care to ask if they had received results and the secretary blurts out "your Rheumatoid test is positive".  No explanation, no consult, no further information nothing.

While I wait to see a Rheumatologist I have read lots of information on RA.  Everything I read makes me go, that's me!  Other things I read make me wonder what the future will bring.  That is the unknown, but for now I know I live for today, take it as it comes and never give up.  I spent the last 12 days on a journey through periods of pain and sleeplessness to periods of only feeling tired and heavy.  With the recent relief it was time to get back in the saddle.

I realized today how important motorcycling is to me.  How it is part of who I am and what I do.  I have always called it 'Two Wheeled Therapy' and that now rings true more than ever.

Ride strong, ride proud, ride fast and live!

Brian's Ride, August 5, 2007

The day started out cooler than the last few days or weeks have been and I was up at the break of dawn unable to sleep. Today was the day. The first annual Brian’s ride in memory of my good friend Brian Mello a fellow rider, friend, confidant, firefighter, father, brother, son and husband. Brian was senselessly killed on March 24, 2007 when an elderly driver hit him when taking a left turn through a group of 3 riders. Today however, was a beautiful summer day, with a cool morning and clear sky’s threatening to warm up the day as the sun rises to attention.

Anticipation, shaky nerves, and the memory of my good friend all heavy on my mind I headed to the garage. I looked at the fleet and it came to me, clear as day. When Brian would ride with me, he would choose a sport bike, don my race jacket that hangs in the garage that only he ever wore and we would go for a short ride and enjoy a friendly lunch. Today, I will ride a sport bike and leave the Harley at home even though I know this will be a Harley day and the sport bike attendance will be few at best. I strapped his jacket onto my rear seat; it only felt right that I should take it along for this ride.

After my morning coffee, too many smokes, and much pacing in the garage I decided it was finally time to hit the road. I slabbed it to the staging area in Raynham as I wanted to be one of the first to arrive; I was to park in the VIP section and am in the first group to lead the ride. Somewhere along that ride I got that same strange but familiar feeling, which I often get and realize that I am on this journey of life, alone. This will prove to be an emotional day for me, and I must support myself. A quick stop at the Dunkin Donuts for more fuel for me, and an encounter with a character I wish I had not had the misfortune to encounter today but that is a whole other story, a quick stop for fuel for the bike and I entered the staging area.

In the far end of the parking lot were two fire trucks from local departments, proudly flying their flags from the boom extended over the area coned and taped for orderly line up of the participants. As I expected, I was one of only a few sport bikes in attendance, but I knew if Bri was riding with me today, he would be proud. The next two hours was spent looking at the bikes and talking to many participants that traveled from as far as Toronto just for this ride, and making some new friends. A 1964 short track Ducati single carb 250cc bike catches my eye and for the first time I realize that I never remembered to grab my camera. I will have to take it all in and just remember.

Just before the ride was to commence, we gathered, some 450 biker’s many with passengers, to thank the Massachusetts Motorcycle Survivors Fund, the participants, remember Bri, and a short prayer for a safe ride. We exited the parking lot under an arch created by the fire truck booms with the fire department and American flags proudly displayed. Emotion was riding high, and I felt a bit shaky again, but once underway, the comfort of being on my two wheels took over. The ride was nice, a good pace, nice country roads, courteous riders, and showed a police and fire presents that would have made Bri proud. As we passed ‘his’ station, the firefighters where lined up in front of yet another truck with an extended boom over the street.

The day ended at a local pub with the parking lot converted into a gathering ground for the participants. Food, drink, raffles, good music and friends all here for the common good. To raise money for the Massachusetts Motorcycle Survivors Fund, who is dedicated to helping accident victims and surviving family members, whose organization, members, and volunteers alike worked diligently to organize an outstanding event. I met many great people and was shocked at the amount of people with nice things to say about Bri. Shocked even more at the attitudes of the Harley riders here today, as I did not meet one with the stereo-typical attitude. They were here for the same reason I was, to support, to remember and to honor.

As I parked the bike in the garage I looked at the odometer, 101 miles today, exactly. Although I think I traveled a lot further.

I hung Bri’s jacket back on the hook where he had been the last to place it. Good day today Bri, we will ride again next year.

Why?

Sometimes I really wonder why….

I wonder why my life has turned out to be this way. I wonder why history repeats itself. I wonder why. Why?

Is it something I have done? Is there really such a thing as karma? Is that why? Would that mean that somehow I have asked for this life? Why?

I have spent my life striving to be more, professionally, not for me, but for my family. My family; Jessica, James, Mary, and my current partner Chris. If I work hard, do all I can, be responsible, meet the deadlines, and make achievements, I will go further, make a better modest pay and provide for those I love. I am and always have been the provider, that’s my job here, provide. If I provide for them they will be happy. Every child deserves to look back on a happy childhood and be provided for. But is it ever enough? Why?

You know, that sounds funny to me, partner. Is he really my partner? Sometime I feel like he works against me, not with me. Isn’t that the way partners should be, together, working toward the same goals, trying to achieve the same things, and looking forward to the same things? Shouldn’t you be supporting each other as you muddle through the everyday, shouldn’t you be supporting each other emotionally, shouldn’t you be understanding of the others point of view, opinions, hopes, desires, dreams and wishes? And why is that so hard for me to find, not that I need to find that mind you. Why?

I went to Bri’s funeral the other day. That was a hard day for me. I was nothing to him, a friend yes, but nothing more, none the less it was a hard day for me. I realized as I was walking into the church, that long walk, that I was walking alone. I watched as others supported each other, as people traveled through this process, the funeral home, and the church, the cemetery and the Century House in pairs or more. I was alone. They departed in cars and trucks with driver and passenger. It was a bit surreal, but a reality. I know it’s a metaphor, but the truth in a lot of ways. I realized that no matter who is in my life, they come and they go, but I go through this journey of life alone. Never once did he ask if I needed his support, if he should come with me. Then I realized that when it was someone in his family, he went alone, although I offered to go for support, he did not want me there. Alone. Why?

So why is this? It is not just him; it has been all the others before too. I go to the family events, whether it is what I want to do or not, holidays, birthdays, celebrations and sorrows. Yet somehow when it is my family, I go alone. I try to take the high road, do the things that are responsible, supportive, and just plain the right thing to do, so why don’t the people I choose to share my life with? Not just one, one and all. Why?

Maybe, just maybe that is the way it was meant to be for me. I am okay with that of course, I can be alone and not want for the companionship of another, however when it finds me and I let it happen and let someone in, it changes. It happens. It happens, over and over again which leads me to believe that I must cause this to happen. Look within many would say, find out why things repeat, find out why the same ugly feeling arise each and every time. Only I just can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it is just destiny. When I picture myself getting old, when I imagine my golden years, the image is of me alone. Why?

Bri had finally found happiness but it was taken from him. Is that how it works? Do you strive your lifetime for happiness only for it to come to an abrupt end? Why?

It seems like such a simple thing, happiness. Yet it seems to be what we all strive to achieve. Some spend their life chasing what they believe will bring that happiness, more often than not, money. I have stopped chasing the money with the silly notion that it will make me happy, it will not. I know it will not. I want happiness in a peaceful home without turmoil. I know life is not all rosy, but shouldn’t we be able to have a single day of smiles? Do I really have a warped sense of reality to think this is not too much to ask for? I want to hear my children laugh, I want to see Jessica smile, a rare commodity, I want what seems to be so simple yet it is so hard for me to get. Why?

Sacrifice is a funny thing. Somehow I have thought that making sacrifices would mean that I would make others happy and that would come back to me. Maybe, now that I am 42, it is time for me to learn that it is not true. That is not how it works. I always thought that if I made the sacrifices it would be worth it. What goes around comes around, pay it forward, do for others and they will do for you. I think I was wrong. Sacrifices come in all shapes and sizes, from buying the kind of bread that the other likes instead of the kind I like, giving your last dollar to your child so their day was better instead of yours, carting them from lesson to games without a care for whether you made it home for dinner, or had dinner at all, dresses you can’t really afford, dance lessons year after year when your not sure how your going to pay, volunteering at school, chaperoning, giving up events you long to attend so you can be there for what is important to them. From the smallest of items to things that make your heart ache, but for what? After all, I still get told that I don’t do enough. That I don’t try. It is all I do, try. Why?

Should I have chosen a different road, be all for one and one for all? Would I have faired better? Should I have put my needs and wants first? Should I buy myself name brands and the kids the clearance cloths? Should I put my foot down and not attend those events that I don’t enjoy, that conflict with other things that I want to do? I just don’t think I have that in me, I don’t think I am capable of being selfish and watching those around me sad. I don’t think I can let down those who have expectations, or to not do the respectful, honest, responsible thing. Would it make a difference? Why?

More often then not lately I feel like I am fighting against the world. Against time, against the economy, against it all. Why?

I spend my days trying to make everyone happy but failing. How is it that you can try with every ounce of your being, in every aspect of your life and not win at a single one? Why?

My days are busy and stressful as I try to do it all at work, to earn the respect, to be smarter, to get it done and contribute enough. The goal, to be respected, earn and continue to earn enough to support those for whom I am responsible, to earn enough not to be rich or have more things than the next person but to earn enough to make ends meet and have enough to provide the kids with the things that they want. Sports, camps, dance lessons, daycare, entertainment, parties, school supplies, basics, the never ending basics of heat, electricity, food, transportation the list is truly never ending and ever rising, and never is it enough to make everyone happy, the ultimate goal. Then I get the pleasure of heading home, exhausted, but knowing full well I am headed to a new set of responsibilities and a new set of stresses and inevitable someone will be upset with me. If I do for one, the other will be mad and vise versa. How do I choose the right road? And, why?

There are times, many times, that it seems no matter what my decision, what permission, what punishment, what chore, what I chose to eat, what I didn’t eat, what glass I want to drink from, what time I get home, what time I go to bed, what anything….will be the wrong thing. Someone somewhere will judge and more often then not, it will be the one that I expected more of. The one that I expected to help me, physically and emotionally, yet that very same one is the one that hurts me emotionally the most. On second thought, maybe not the most. I keep thinking that the end of a hard day is when I would fall into some strong arms that understand and support without judgment, hatred or anger. Shouldn’t the front door of your home open up to the place where you want to be and are wanted? Why?

So, is that it. Is that what my life is all about? Is that the journey that I am destined? Try to be the peacemaker, rush from this place to that always trying to get someplace where someone else needs or wants me to be? When will it be my life? When will I travel where, when and how I want to? What is the destination? When my end comes, like Bri’s, Quint’s and so many others, where will be the happy memories the laughter and the stories and the pictures? At this point, and for as long as I can remember everyday has been a struggle, a giant fight.

Summer is around the corner again. My 43^rd summer. I have dreams of my own for this coming summer.

No more slammed doors, no more words of hate, no more yelling, no more anger, and the ability to decide for myself and my kids what is right, what is wrong, what is good, what is bad, what to eat, when to sleep and everything in between. Shared responsibility, smiles, respect, courtesy, kindness and laughter, a garden, and memories of happy times with my kids, family and friends. I want the kids to be happy, be responsible and helpful, but have time for fun. Maybe a trip to Boston or New York to see the wonder of the city in the eyes of my children. Miniature golf, walks in the park or at the zoo, ice cream cones and swimming. And time for me, without the guilt. I want to ride. I want destinations unknown and winding roads, and trips to the track, and the freedom to go, when time allows without knowing in my heart that someone is angry for the decisions I made, or my selfish want for time to be me. I want to be able to go, and I don’t expect to be able to be free but only to be free for a few short periods of time, free however means free of the worry and heartache that I shall cause others. Free from knowing someone will be angry, free from having to look at the clock or answer.

Only I know what will happen, I will be forced to make choices, choices that there are no right answers for, choices that someone will be mad at me for. I know I will be made to feel guilty because there is only so much time and never enough to satisfy others.

I wish I could do it all, but I know that I cannot. But we continue to try. I cannot be all things to all people and I cannot be responsible for the happiness of others. Either they will be happy or not regardless of my choices

VIR 2006

VIR 2006

Can I do this? Is this a good idea? The nerves started to take over the week before the scheduled departure. I have to take the race school and pass in order to ride the following two days. What is that school going to be like? What on earth made me think I could even do this? Oh yeah, I know, Derek. Derek said that he had confidence that I could. I trust him, but do I trust myself?

After working all day on Thursday, and what a busy, stressful and tiring day that was, I drove directly to Norwood to hook up with my ride. Thankfully we have loaded all the bikes the week before. It’s 5:30 and we hit the road driving straight through the night with only two very quick stops for fuel. We arrive at the gates of VIR just after 5:00 am all of us in desperate need for sleep only to find out that we will not be allowed in until 7:00. Unseasonably cold was that day, I am sure it felt colder to me due to my lack of sleep. I was glad I was not riding that day, too tired, too cold, and still very much too nervous.

Saturday morning arrived much too quickly and I arose to my first peak outside to see rain. De ja’ vue. Last year, same time, same thing, only last year we were lucky and the rain stopped just in time for our first session and we were blessed with a beautiful spring day. Will I be that lucky two years in a row? Rain on the day of the school, not what I wanted to even think about. Short of a few local jaunts over the course of the winter months, I have not been on a bike for what seems an eternity. Unfortunately, we do not head to the track quite as early as I hoped and after stopping for gas we arrive only to hear final call for all students to be in the classroom in full leathers. Gasp…my bike is still two deep in the trailer. I have to pass tech, complete the medical form, check in, change, have my bike, gas, and stand on pit row and be in the classroom….all, right now! Luckily, Jim and Chad took care of me and got all this done while I was in the first classroom session, however, did I even hear anything they said or was I only thinking about if I was to be ready to roll on time? The nerves are shot by this time. Running late, wet track, unprepared bike, and a total lack of confidence is all leading to a feeling in the pit of my stomach that was not to disappear until mid-afternoon. Needless to say, my own mind prevented me from riding anywhere near my ability so my focus changed for the day to only survival. Get through this day and get your certificate and start again, fresh, tomorrow. I did in fact pass the class and was rewarded with a certificate awarded to “James Phair”. While nothing went drastically wrong, nothing was right that day, but I survived.

Sunday morning once again arrived too soon. With coffee as my savior I prepared for yet another day on the South course. Confidence in me was at an all time low. I sucked yesterday and how will I bring myself out of the funk? I sat out the first session, took a few deep breaths and decided today was just about having some fun. My first session out I was stiff and still not feeling myself, still convinced in my head that I did not like this track, and still thinking about how cold it still is today. Too many off camber turns. Before I knew it something clicked. I found the rhythm. Looking through the corners I was struggling with the day before, picking up speed and coming back to the pits with a smile as large as can be. This is why I came 12 hours to this track! I kick myself now, as I think back, why was I unable to have this much fun on the track the day before? It all went to prove, that riding is not just physical but very mental, indeed.

It’s Monday morning, let’s go, let’s go. North Course today!!! I can’t wait. Monday was an incredible day and made the trip all worth while. After two laps with an instructor to re-introduce me to the line he gave the thumbs up and I was off on my own. A day I did not want to end, even though my body was telling my otherwise.

This year, once again, I was impressed by the level of commitment to the riders, the kindness, instruction, attention, patients and positive feedback received from the instructors of Cornerspeed.

So, when can I go back???

Digits

Digits

1 bike...600 cc’s…3 days…1 new tail bag ..9 tanks of gas...950 miles...2 rain storms...2 states...2 ears...3 waterfalls…12 bridges…triple digits, triple the limit…Rte 100, 9 and 2…1st time on the Mohawk Trail…1 pair of new boots, 0 blisters…1 wrong turn, 6 miles of dirt road…1 full daytime moon…1 eagle, 1 otter, 1 flock of geese, 1 cow crossing…12,000 rpm’s…1 sensory overload on 108…countless passes….0 run in’s with the law…miles of mountains on the horizon…1 simply amazing trip…1 very tired Jaynnus…1 Happy Fathers Day, this ones for you…6…19…2005.

VIR

March 28-29, 2005
VIR North Course
New England Street Riders/Cornerspeed


This trip started with much anticipation, which began three weeks before departure for the track. I had not even considered being a part of this trip as I automatically assumed I did not have the necessary skills to partake in this event. After a bit of encouragement from several different people, I was persuaded to attend and this trip became an obsession. Like a kid at Christmas, every waking moment was consumed by thoughts of the VIR North Course. I had been there before; it was only last October that I made the trip to the hills of Alton Virginia to watch Miguel Duhamel take the championship at the AMA Superbike Suzuki Lightening Nationals. I could see that track in my head and knew the beauty of the hillside, the green landscape of the track grounds, the kindness of all the VIR staff, and the layout of the track in my head. I could not wait to go. With my 600RR dropped off to the party that was to do my safety wiring and transport my bike to VIR the final week became almost unbearable.

Easter morning my poor children were awaken at 5:30 am to find their Easter goodies because Mom was hitting the road by 6:00am. For me, it could not have come soon enough. My ride arrived at my home bright and early and just as anxious as I to get going. We took the scenic route 81 as opposed to 95 and saw more farmland than I care to describe but made the entire trip in 11 hours. After having a few beers and some roasted jalapeno pizza I tried to get some much needed rest cause we were due at the track bright and early Monday morning.

I awoke Monday morning and lay awake for a few moments realizing that the day had finally arrived, only to realize a few moments later that that noise was torrential rain and rolling thunder. We grabbed some coffee and headed for the track. Since the rain was so heavy there was no apparent haste in getting onto the track. I decided to get my bike through tech so I could sit back and relax a bit while I worried about hitting a wet track. I rolled into tech through rivers of run off water from the pit area, handed the inspectors my soggy waiver and rolled out the other side with my pink sticker ready to go!! I spent the next hour meeting and greeting and lending a hand to some fellow riders who were less than ready to pass tech.

After the riders meeting and listening to Aaron give us a little insight on the track and how we could expect the morning sessions to go, we were ready to hit the track. By some miracle, the sun came out to welcome us and the mood in the pit area suddenly changed and smiling riders were plentiful. It was finally time to pit out. As I waited in the grid to be assigned to an instructor I realized that I was not as nervous as I had expected to be. Lee, the VIR employee that worked as the pit director decided to send me out one on one with a Cornerspeed instructor. After following this instructor for 2 laps and then him following me, he called me into pit row and wanted to have a chat. My heart sank; surely he wants to tell me that I need to do everything better or that maybe I just don’t even belong here. Two deep breaths and suddenly I hear him saying things like “you have done this before right?”, “this is not your first time on this track is it?”. Now I am confused, yes, its my first time. “I have to tell you that you have probably learned the line and stuck to it faster than anyone I have ever taught. Your going to have a good day, relax and have fun”

The majority of Monday was filled with ever improving sessions, incredible attention and encouragement from the Cornerspeed instructors and tons of fun. I could feel myself getting better with each session, and continued to get direction and some encouraging feedback from the instructors that included comments like “You are going to learn a lot. We like it when we see someone like you that is really here to learn. You are listening to us and following our direction”.

I went out for the last session of the day not realizing that the weather had changed and the temperature had dropped drastically since the last time out. It was the last session of the day and I wanted to make the most of it. I hit turn 1 with a bit more speed than I had all day and as I went into turn 2 completing the horseshoe, my back tire did a few steps out and slid!! “Have confidence in your bike” I heard in my head. I also heard “if you think your going down, you might as well go down leaning in and on the throttle”. I reacted by doing just that, lean in and roll on the throttle, and the bike pulled me through that corner and through me into 3. I learned really quickly that I can do this and I can regain my composure quickly enough to keep going. What a rush. That rush was quickly extinguished as I came back into that same corner and as I was leaning hard right, I realized that I saw someone special in the grass to the left. I lost focus long enough to do a double take, realize that he was standing so he must be okay, and turn back to focus on my own self preservation. I had to look through the corner or I was going to join him. How many times have I been told you will go where you look?

Monday night was spent trying my hardest to find some Ducati parts that could be shipped in overnight. My best hope was to find dealer on the west coast. They would still have time to ship it with overnight delivery. I failed. We went out for dinner as a group and Chris was generous enough to pick up the tab for the whole group. What an amazing gesture and a much-appreciated friend.

Tuesday morning arrived much too soon. It was time to open my eyes before I could believe it. We headed toward the track with the sun shining brightly but I had mixed feelings of this day. Excitement that I had another whole day to ride this incredible track mixed with a bit of guilt that I knew a certain yellow Ducati was not in working order. The day flew by. The weather was incredible and the track was awesome. I exceeded my own expectations for myself and cannot be happier with this whole experience. I continued to receive instruction and some positive feedback from the instructors. “Is this really your first time at this track? How long have you been riding? I am really impressed. Some of these guys may be faster than you but I can tell you that you are technically out riding them. Your smooth, loose and confident. We don’t usually see someone loose on the bars like you when they are so new to this. Keep it up the speed will come.” “I want to tell you that you are the most improved rider I have instructed in a long time. I am impressed that I can push you do try something new and you do it. Some of these other guys, we try to instructed but they do not do what we tell them. You are open to learning and your soaking in everything and it shows.”

Toward the end of the day, I really felt myself finally ‘get’ it. I was riding the track smooth and controlled for two days, but not until I finally figured out how to really get myself off the bike did it all make sense and the bike just flow through those corners and really start to pick up some speed. I actually found myself following some of the others and staying with them through the tight areas only to loose them in the straights as they were on liter bikes. I know I was not the fastest, I know I am not the best; I know I will never win, but for me I succeeded. I will never forget the thrill of pulling into pit row at the end of a good run and the excitement and exhilaration and feeling of ‘I did it’. I learned many things during these two days, some of those things on the track and some off the track. I learned that while I am making steady progress and pushing to get better, I am controlled enough to get myself out of some scary moments. These two days were not without a few incidents that could very easily have sent me farming as Aaron so humorously referred to it. Corner 2 became an area that I tend to slide through more frequently than I would have liked, a certain rider on a red Ducati liked to make aggressive passes on the inside that certainly rattled some others and someone made a bad pass and found himself mudding so close to me that I was covered in his muddy spin off. Each time I was able to maintain my focus and get out of those situations and gain my composure enough to get back onto the line and effectively continue. Oddly enough, I found myself looking for one person in particular that second day before I even entered the pits. I needed to share and I knew that person ‘got it’ and would allow me to thrive in my own glory!!

We decided to stay over on Tuesday evening instead of heading north directly from the track. It had been a long few days and it was certainly nice to enjoy a leisurely private dinner for two and get a good nights rest before heading home and back to reality. Without question this will be an event I will not pass up next year. There are many things and many people involved in this trip that I would not forget. Watching a ZX6 low side into the mud right in front of me, seeing Ed at the edge of the woods in turn 2, pink tape and tampon strings, a certain young lady yelling how she had to ‘take a fucking shit’ (don’t ask), getting covered in mud, having someone bring me coffee unexpectedly, Lee blowing kisses as I pit out or giving thumbs up as I hit the kink, Highsiders t-shirt, the bike thieves that were actually delivering our pizza, friends camaraderie and kindness…the list seems endless.

What a way to welcome spring!

Track review:
The long straight is 150mph+ for a 600 and larger bike and around 120+mph for me. The straight isn't really straight; it has a kink in the middle of it that requires a good shove on the bars to change direction at those speeds.At the end of the straight is turn 1 and 2 that forms a horseshoe, which requires two downshifts and a lot of lean angle to the right. Turn 4 and 5 is tight and reminds me a bit of a fast version of Loudon's turn 11-12 combo. Exiting turn 5 I'm on the gas hard, catching an up shift to build speed for the back straight which is actually s turns. The brakes are on hard as you emerge from under the bridge approaching turn 7. Turn 7 is kind of like the exit of Loudon's turn 3, because it's a steep uphill right turn. The top of turn is blind, revealing the upper series of turns, which are fast with a lot of elevation change. This was my favorite section of the track.Then its into turn 10, which is a left turn at the crest of a hill leading to turn 11, which is in a hollow. You can carry a lot of speed through there using the bank of the hill to your advantage.Turns 14 and 14a is what I think of as a mini corkscrew that goes steeply downhill leading to the Hog pen series of turns that lead onto the front straight.

Inspired

Someone recently said that those with blogs are narcissistic. After consulting Webster’s I began to ponder just that theory. I hope that my blog does not come across in that manner and if it does, there is always your freedom not to visit or read. For me, this blog is an outlet of sorts. A place where things that so inspire me to think and feel can be expressed. I don’t write about my daily life, I don’t publish personal information or a play-by-play of my life. I don’t post my picture or promote myself as something I am not. I do however, write about those things that get under my skin enough that I find myself mulling over the events and the emotion that cause such inspiration. For me, the simple act of recreating that feeling in such a manner that I can relive it again when I choose to reminisce, revisit and reread allows me to release it from my being and move on to the next significant event. Life is about the ‘feelings’ that you experience with each new day and the joy you can create for yourself and those around you.

Today, however, my thoughts are consumed by this joy and exhilaration I experienced last night as I watched my son shine. More confirmation that truly caring about others can bring joy to your core when they succeed. My son is 9 and is on his first basketball team. He has talent; only he has intimidation that takes over. He always says “why can’t I just play street ball?”. See, in street ball, nobody is watching, there are no refs, nobody gets a foul and there are not all those rules and boundaries.

Last night was his time to shine. Something happened to him, of which I am sure even he cannot explain. It just clicked and he finally got it. He played point guard and got 8 rebounds, 3 assists and made his first 2 points. I erupted and looked to the coach sitting directly across the court only to see him doing the same. Ear to ear, two fists up and a yell of pride in my boy. We all knew he could do it, and now he knows too. I want nothing more from this season. I will sit through the remainder of the games as I have done with all the ones before not missing a one cause what is important to those I love, is important to me by default. A good day indeed.

Pure Ecstasy

Pure ecstasy…the only way I can explain it.

I was fine with winter, really I was. Didn’t even mind the snow, I love seeing the kids revel in what Mother Nature can deliver. But someone came along and we started talking bikes and it got to me. I have not even uncovered the bikes for almost 4 months.

So, Sunday February 6, 2005 I find myself trying to get ready for the big game, and get some chores done around the house. I should be taking advantage of time without the kids around and get some things accomplished. But in the back of my mind are the bikes. After getting the errands done and riding home with the windows open I was drawn to the garage…almost unwillingly.

“I just wanna see if she will start. Ohhhh…..what a beautiful sound, and oh the smell. Maybe I should just pull her out into that brisk sunshine and dust her off. Well, just a quick blast up and down my little side street. I just want to feel it again”

I spent many a recent time with my own internal doubts. Did I lose the confidence I had started to gain at the end of last year? Will I be as comfortable as I had become after last years track day? I was sure I needed some ‘alone’ riding time to regain my composure.

The “I just want to feel it again” turned into about an hour ride. I found myself in fourth gear going up the hill and out of the neighbor hood and this deep yell of pure exhilaration was filling my helmet. All doubts where gone….I did not forget. It was a struggle, I have to keep reminding myself there is still lots of ice, melting snow piles, sand, salt and the newly acquired riding surface cluttered with potholes.

Since I was only going to try it in front of the house, I had not bothered to dress appropriately for the brisk 44 degree day. Wife beater, leather jacket, jeans and no gloves!! Chilly it was, only I realized that I did not even notice, not even a shiver. I stopped to top her off so that she can retire again to the safety of the garage; however, pulling into the doublewide driveway was the hardest turn of the day. As I dismounted I realized that my hands were so cold I could barely move them. The keypad to open the garage was almost impossible to navigate.

I am surely ready for spring.

Needless to say, the laundry remains unwashed and I was wiring my suround sound with much appreciated assistance from a certain someone during pre-game. But that shall be another entry.