SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 2025 – Q2 and Race 1
I woke up earlier than I wanted to, as usual, but I was feeling good and confident. Even though the official qualifying cutoff times wouldn’t be determined until after Q2, I knew my time from Q1 was easily fast enough to make the grid. Now it was just a matter of how far up the grid I could get, especially if I was able to improve my time in this morning’s qualifying session.
As in previous rounds, Super Hooligans were first on the schedule, which meant colder conditions for Q2 compared to yesterday afternoon’s Q1 session. So, I wasn’t holding my breath about going faster, but I was determined to try and consolidate my position by reacting to the conditions the same as everyone else. In other words, if they can go faster, so can I, and if we all go slower, I’m still heading to the big show!
As the final calls came in and my team sent me out, I made my way to the track entrance. When the marshal released us, we all took off, wasting little time getting up to speed. Once again, I did my best to hang with the fastest of the group, but mostly focused on being clean and smooth, and going faster with each lap. The track conditions were definitely not as nice as yesterday afternoon, so I wasn’t too worried when my lap timer kept showing me times that were slower than yesterday’s best. Nevertheless, I was riding with confidence and picking up speed throughout the session.
Once back in Parc Ferme, I checked my times, along with the rest of the group, and saw that we all went slower than yesterday. I logged a 1:38.026, just over a second slower than yesterday, and finished P17 out of 36. Based on the combined times from both qualifying sessions, my Q1 best lap time earned me a P18 of 33 on the grid. Again, not great, but not bad. It was another solid mid-pack performance. I’ll take it!
Once the adrenaline started to wear off, I did a quick visual inspection of the bike. Despite our valiant efforts to “patch” the hole in the exhaust once and for all, it had blown wide open again! I prayed that the MotoAmerica Tech Staff examining the bikes didn’t notice and disqualify me. They didn’t. Thank goodness!
We got the bike back to the pit and immediately went to work removing the exhaust can. My best friend, Sam, had become an integral member of the pit crew over the course of the season. He also happens to be a very handy person, and volunteered to go into town to source some new repair materials and see if he could finally fix the can for good, and I volunteered to go with him for company and to get away from the track for a little while.
Sam and I made a few stops to pick up various pieces of sheet metal, carbon fiber exhaust wrap, and steel banding. We also did a little shopping for clothes at Ross and supplies at Walmart. Why not?
When we returned to the track, Sam went to work on his repair job, while I hung out with the rest of my team, and also wandered through the paddock saying hi to some of the new friends I’ve made over the course of the season. As much as I enjoy the competition on the track, the best part about these race weekends is connecting with old friends and making new ones, and building community with so many like-minded people who all share the same passion.
A couple of hours later, Sam was ready to show off his repair job, and I must say, I was entirely impressed. In the true spirit of a hooligan bike, he had wrapped a layer of sheet metal around the can and riveted it in place, followed by a tight wrapping of carbon fiber designed for exhaust pipes, not cans, then finished off with 5 steel bands – making it look more like something out of Mad Max – Impressive! If this didn’t hold, nothing would.
As race time approached, I went into the RV and started my routine of stretching, including my eye-stretching exercises. I got suited and booted, then made my way to the pit. In preparation for Race 1, I studied the grid layout. MotoAmerica uses a 3-wide grid, and at Mid-Ohio, pole is on the right side of the track, which puts P18 on the left side of the 6th row. Unfortunately, due to a relatively short run to turn 1, a tight left-hander, my grid spot would have me packed in with a group trying to beat everyone else to the apex. At Road Atlanta, I was able to gain a couple positions at the start by taking an outside line into T1. So having to start today’s race on the inside, I was curious, if not nervous, about how this would all play out.
The calls for race 1 were made and my team sent me on my way. My stomach was full of butterflies as I rolled through the paddock to the track entrance. Sometimes excitement and anxiety are hard to distinguish from one another, but I have always found that all I can do is show up, keep moving, and put one foot in front of the other, or one wheel, in this case. The noise in my head is always loudest just before the race, but goes perfectly quiet just in time for me to focus on the job at hand as soon I hit the grid.
As we were released onto the track for the sighting lap, I could already feel my nerves calming. This is it. It’s what I had been preparing for all season — since I started racing for that matter — and I was finally about to start the first race of the last round of my first full season of MotoAmerica!
As we came out of the final turn, I looked for Shanea, who was standing at my grid spot, waiting to greet me as I took my position. This has been one of my favorite parts of my MotoAmerica experience – being on the grid of a national, professional, televised race, alongside the person I love most in this world. In that moment, as I pulled into my spot and looked into Shanea’s eyes, full of confidence and excitement, everything was perfect! She grabbed my helmet, planted a kiss on the chin guard, then quickly shuffled herself off the track.
Time for our warmup lap. Engines revved in anticipation of the green flag, then we all took off for one more tire-warming trip around the track. These laps definitely didn’t have the same intensity as the first race lap, but there’s still a lot of energy in them. We all tested out our lines and threw a few elbows to try and intimidate our competitors. I didn’t like cramming into T1, but it’s such a crowded field, I didn’t have much choice. My only hope was that I could keep the rest of the grid behind me into the first corner during the race, until there was a little more space for me to stretch my legs.
Completing the warmup lap, we all slotted our way into our grid spots for the final time. To get myself psyched up, I let out a primal scream inside my helmet. I then dropped my chest to the tank, elbows out, eyes fixed on the starting lights. The sound of steady engine revs from the entire grid blends into a sweet harmony with the nervous vibration running through my entire body. Lights on! Revs up! Lights out! LAUNCH!
I let out the clutch, and my bike surged underneath me. The roar of engines was momentarily drowned out by the rush of adrenaline that set off alarm bells in my head. The cacophony was immediately quieted by the sharp focus of my attention as I made a mad dash to the first corner.
As expected, I got caught up in a swarm of riders and squeezed into a giant traffic jam! Everyone was being super aggressive, and I was ready to bang bars, but some of my rivals got the drop on me and took advantage of my unfortunate track position. I had to quickly duck tight to the inside of the turn and off the race line to keep from being taken out by – or taking out – half the field, which threw off any plan I had to gain positions, let alone protect mine. At least a couple, if not a few, riders got past me on the outside, as I was stuffed to the large inside curbing of T1. Damn it!
To make matters worse, all this completely blew my exit drive. My MT-09 gave me everything it had as soon as I opened the throttle back up, but it wasn’t enough to keep a couple more riders from getting by me on the short run to the chicane of turns two and three. Damn it!
In all the melee it was impossible to keep track of my position, but there was no doubt I had lost several. Oh well! All I could do now was put my head down and try to get them back. The swarm of bikes had already begun to spread out by the time we hit T2, a gentle right turn that quickly switches to the flowing back-to-back lefts of T3 and T4. I hit my marks perfectly, but so did everyone else. The exit of T4 opens to a slight rise into another switchback to the right-handed sweeper, the “Key Hole,” that cuts back down a slight decline and mild decreasing radius. This is a fun turn with a few line options, allowing for excitingly tight passing opportunities when they present themselves. No such luck on this first lap!
The exit of the Key Hole blends into the longest straight on the circuit. I got a decent drive and twisted my quick-turn throttle all the way open, letting the engine work its way up to just before the limiter before each shift. There’s a small kink to the right about two-thirds of the way, and I tightened my line to the apex before working my way back to the left side of the track. I waited as long as I could before getting on the brakes and dropping several gears.
Hard to the right, aiming for a late apex to set up my least favorite turn. T6, affectionally referred to as “Madness,” is a tight, off-camber, left-hander that sweeps over a small slope that peaks at the apex. The bike gets super light at the top of the hill and wants to push its way to the outside of the track. It’s everything I can do to hold a tight line, not only to protect my position, but also to set up for the next section of the track, which is also my favorite. As I shoot down the slope to the backside of Madness, I work hard to get to the left side of the track before bending to the right and into the “Esses,” which are a flowing series of switch backs, starting with a hard right, then a gentle, slight uphill left that allows for hard acceleration, then over a mild slope and down to the first of a couple fast right handers, over another small rise, and down into “Thunder Valley.” Weeeeeeeeeeee! Way better than any roller coaster I’ve ever ridden!
Dropping down the slope from T10, the bike drifts all the way to the far left of the track. I drove hard, back to the right, and dropped a gear into the left kink at T11, which feeds into the “Carousel,” a long, sweeping right turn that has to be finished as close to a late apex as possible in order to flip the bike back to its left for the final turn and back onto the front straight!
I completed the first lap without losing any more positions after the several lost in the opening drive, but I also didn’t take any back. Apparently, a couple of my competitors weren’t so lucky, and somewhere in the first sector of the track on the opening lap, there was a collision between at least a couple of bikes. Though no one got seriously injured, there was some debris on the track, and race control decided to play it safe and throw the red flags. The rest of us made our way around the circuit as quickly as possible to clear the track so that the fallen riders and their crashed bikes could be attended to, as well as to keep heat in our tires. I pulled into the hot pit where my team was waiting with stands and warmers. They caught me and I dismounted, letting them get my bike set up for the wait until the race was restarted.
After such a horrible start, I was slightly relieved that I would have another shot at it, but I was still concerned about my options from my grid spot assignment. I quickly debriefed with my team, reviewing the first and only lap we had any data on.
Tensions were high while we all waited for updates from race control. When they finally started coming in, we learned that there would be a 5-lap restart, so what was already a sprint race was going to be even shorter. I tend to get faster as the race progresses, so this was not particularly welcome news.
As soon as we got the final countdown call, I got back on the bike, my team pulled the warmers and stands, and sent me on my way. As I completed the sighting lap, I saw Shanea waiting for me at my grid spot again. No matter what happens in this restart, I felt lucky to get another good luck kiss. After Shanea and everyone else’s crew cleared the track, we were released onto our warmup lap. One more time around the circuit, at pace to warm the tires, the suspension, and the mind and body back up, then into our grid spots.
Here we go again! Visors down, elbows out, chest on the tank. Lights on. Lights out. Launch!
I immediately tried to find a different line into turn 1, but I got swallowed up in traffic again. And cursed with a total déjà vu, I lost a couple of positions heading to the apex, and a couple more due to the lousy drive I got coming out. I lost a total of 5 positions before T2, falling all the way back to 23. Damn it!
Again, we all started spreading out not long after the first turn, and I did what I could to stop the bleeding and consolidate my position. I pushed as hard as I could over the first few laps, and by lap three, I managed to take back a position, and finally one more on the final lap of this super abbreviated race, taking the checkered flag in P21.
I made my way to Parc Ferme feeling totally defeated. Despite dropping my time with each lap and regaining a couple of positions, I was super bummed about finishing three positions behind where I started.
Of course, my team is very supportive and did what they could to comfort me, but I was having a hard time shaking my disappointment. I made several apologies to them for my performance, but they refused to accept them, telling me it wasn’t necessary to apologize and that I still did really well under the circumstances. I’m glad someone thought so!
The rest of the day was spent relaxing and enjoying each other’s company, but I was definitely struggling with a lingering feeling of disappointment and despair. I would love to say that I can take failure on the racetrack in stride and easily keep a positive attitude, but I would be lying. Of course, I understand that “failure” is a subjective term, open to interpretation and perspective. But I can be particularly hard on myself, so almost anything short of achieving my very high standards can hit me like a ton of failure bricks! Yeah, I know that sounds pathetic and melodramatic, but it’s just who I am, and I’ve learned to live with it. Besides, it’s probably one of the reasons I’ve experienced so much success, which is ironic, to be sure. I am very competitive, and if I didn’t think I could win (another very subjective and relative term), I wouldn’t bother competing. Failure is not only a risk worth taking, it’s inevitable, and one of the reasons that success is so damn sweet!
But the difficulty I have when things don’t go according to plan, especially on the racetrack, is probably made much worse by my mental health struggles. I have always experienced emotions more intensely than other people. Of course, this explains why I chase the highest highs, but also why I can be so devastated by the lows. I’ve been called an “extremist,” but that’s really just a euphemism for more pejorative terms, like “risk taker,” “trouble maker,” “crazy person,” “addict,” and “asshole!”
Anyway, the good news was that I would have another chance to turn things around the next day in race two. Sure, every new chance for success is also another opportunity to fail. But that’s what I signed up for, and I have been and will always be determined to keep moving forward, prepared to suffer the agony of defeat in my quest to enjoy the next thrill of victory!