WARNING TO THE READER – IF YOU WANT TO PRESERVE ANY RESPECT YOU HAVE FOR ME, OR YOUR IMAGE OF ME AS A STRONG, MATURE, THICK-SKINNED, MENTALLY AND EMOTIONALLY HEALTHY ADULT, SKIP THIS NEXT SECTION. HOWEVER, IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GET TO KNOW THE REAL ME, INCLUDING THE DARKEST, UGLIEST SIDE, BY ALL MEANS, KEEP READING…
If I were to rank on-track race experiences from best to worst, getting beaten at the line would be at or near the bottom, along with things like season-ending crashes that cause devastating injuries and bank-busting repair expenses. Yes, that bad.
I was instantly overcome with frustration and disappointment. So much so that I couldn’t even enjoy my final cool-down lap of the season, when I usually have way too much fun clowning and waving to the crowds of cheering fans and spectators. Instead, I hurried my way around the track in a tantrum-fueled effort to get as far away from the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. Of course, the overwhelming feeling of failure was not on the track, but in my head, and wherever you go, there YOU are! So, it all followed me all the way to Parc Ferme.
My team grabbed my bike and I dismounted while they put it on stands. I couldn’t get my gloves and helmet off quickly enough. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. And the timing couldn’t have been worse. I had just finished the final race of my first MotoAmerica season. This should have been a time to celebrate, along with my team, who had been with me through it all. But all I could think about was how I let them all down – how I let myself down – how I ruined everything.
Okay, if you’re thinking that I’m being ridiculously and overly melodramatic, you’re absolutely right! Of course, that’s because you’re probably looking at all of this so much more logically than I was capable of at that moment. Maybe you’re thinking, “but you had such an amazing first MotoAmerica season, with so many highlights, including awesome performances, scoring points, firmly in the championship battle, making new friends, getting tons of incredible exposure for your nonprofit, and traveling all over the country living your dream! Oh, and not to mention that in this race you made an awesome last lap pass and finished super strong, scoring your fastest lap of the weekend on your final lap.”
Yep, all true, but at that moment, none of it mattered. It was all overshadowed by the devastating sense of total failure. Of course, this is not necessarily a normal reaction, even for overly competitive racers. It’s just part of who I am – I experience almost everything more intensely than most people. I’m a super sensitive, hyper-anxious, wildly sentimental, perfectionist, and definitely my own worst critic.
Am I embarrassed by this? Hell yes, of course! But it’s just who I am, and after more than half a century on this earth I have learned to live with it. I don’t like it, but I accept it. Of course, it comes at a cost, but it has its advantages as well, believe it or not. Almost every monumental achievement I’ve ever accomplished has been hard won and due in large part to the very same character traits that make any version of failure almost unbearable. I’m not suggesting it’s a worthwhile trade-off, because that would suggest that it’s a matter of choice or deliberate strategy. It’s not. It’s just who I am.
So, there I was, in Parc Ferme, stewing in my devastation and self-pity. My team did their best to support and console me, but I don’t think anyone really knew what to say or do, so they pretty much stayed out of my way.
If you’re wondering, I feel awful about this. Celebrating the end of a race – let alone the end of the season – with the people who helped me do it all, means everything to me. I can’t express enough how much I value each of my team members and what they have done for me. The problem, was that I was so overwhelmed by frustration and disappointment in myself, that I couldn’t get out of my own way to let them know how much I appreciate them. Instead, I sulked in a corner while I pulled up the official results on my phone.
0.008
Yes, eight thousandths of a second. That’s how much I got beat by. A nearly perfect final lap of the final race of the final round of my first MotoAmerica season, until the final 0.008 of a second.
SOOOOO DRAMATIC, RIGHT?!?!
Anyway, you get the point. My ridiculously overly sensitive, hyper anxious, wildly sentimental, perfectionist-self had the perfect set up for being so damn melodramatic!
0.008
I walked over to Shanea who knows me better than anyone, and in one glance, it was clear she understood how hard and painful this was for me. She knew the battles I was already having with my demons, and she was bracing for how bad it would get and how long it would take to get over it.
That’s my other big regret. It’s bad enough that I punish myself like this when I fail, but anyone within the blast radius catches a ton of incidental shrapnel. Shanea is my rock, my savior, my person. She loves me unconditionally, and knows what she signed up for, even when it’s not fair. I do my best to keep all this ugliness inside and protect her from becoming an innocent casualty of the battles between me and my demons, but she’s simply too close. She can see right through me, so I couldn’t possibly hide it from her, no matter how hard I tried.
So, she and I excused ourselves from Parc Ferme and made our way back to the RV. Once we were out of sight from my team, all the other racers and their teams, and even — if not especially — the TV cameras, and it was just her and me, is when the real break down happened.
I let it all out. The anger, frustration, and the tears. Nothing violent, of course, just really, really outrageously dramatic and pathetic. And she sat with me and just let me have my moment. She truly is my angel.
After throwing my emotional tantrum, I finally calmed down enough to make my way back outside. By then, the team had returned and we all tried to figure out what to do with the rest of our weekend. At this point, I was able to hold it together enough to interact with everyone again. I’m sure it was obvious that I was still disappointed, but at least I was able to put on a brave face and reconnect with my team.