SATURDAY, JULY 12, 2025 – Q2 and RACE 1
It was finally here. Race day! Buzzing with my typical mix of nerves and excitement, I leaned into my morning routine to try and stay calm and focused. In addition to all the usual race day stress, I was also expecting a lot of visitors today, including my dad. This would be only the 2nd time he has come to one of my races — last year’s MotoAmerica race being the first.
My dad has always been very accepting – or at least tolerant — of my passion for motorcycles and racing, though I’m sure it wouldn’t have been his first choice for me, imagining all the ways I would grow up from being his baby boy to a self-determined adult. My father is a fantastic dad and an amazing human being, but he’s much more risk-averse than me. He is athletic, but not particularly interested in the same competitive pursuits as I have been. I was always the risk-taking, adrenaline-junkie, wild child. My overly anxious mom (yes, that’s who I inherited it from!) was always worrying about me getting hurt, so she prohibited me from playing any contact sports. However, despite her protests, she was unable to prevent me from riding skateboards and BMX bikes, and roughhousing with all my friends, which also meant she couldn’t protect me from all the injuries I sustained. Growing up, my mom was usually the one who had to take me to the emergency department, where we went so often she got to know the nursing staff on a first-name basis.
I lost my mom in March 2024, before my first MotoAmerica race. She never made it out to any of my regional races, but was always willing to listen to me talk about my passion for motorcycles and racing. I’m sure it terrified her, but her unconditional, unwavering love for me was enough to override her anxiety, and she never gave me anything but her full support. So, even though she has never been to one of my races in person, I know she’s always with me, watching, and rooting for me. I have made a tradition of grabbing a rock from the gravel pits of new tracks I’m racing and placing it on her gravestone when I visit her, while I tell her about all my racing escapades and adventures. I’m sure she still gets anxious, even in the afterlife, but I know she is proud of me and will always be my biggest fan.
So I didn’t grow up in a family that fostered and cultivated my animal spirits, and it wouldn’t be until the age of 47 that I started racing motorcycles. I rode my first motorcycle at age 15 and have owned and ridden countless bikes by the time I reached my late 40s, but competitive racing has been a relatively new passion for me. It turned out that I had a fair amount of raw talent and was teachable enough to learn some decent skills. But it was the thrill of competition at 150 mph that sealed the deal! I still remember my very first race, which was at Sonoma Raceway, formerly Infineon Raceway, formerly Sears Point. When the green flag dropped, and I dumped the clutch and twisted the throttle wide open, and raced to the middle of a crowded pack of bikes and riders all leaning into Turn 1 in unison like we were all sharing a hive-mind, I was absolutely hooked!
Even though my passion for a sport that is so thrilling, but inevitably dangerous, was somewhat foreign to my dad, he loves and accepts me enough to listen to me drone on and on about my racing and all the crazy-intense on-track shenanigans I get into. He never criticizes me or tries to talk me out of it. Even when I’ve suffered tragic injuries or deep emotional race-related trauma, he just listens, accepts me for who and what I am, and loves me no matter what.
So, once he understood how monumentally significant it was for me to be racing in MotoAmerica, he agreed to come watch and support me, and even to fully immerse himself in the entire experience. And I truly love and appreciate him for that.
So, yes, I was looking forward to having my dad come to another of my races, not to mention all the friends who had been messaging me over the past couple of weeks about coming to the event and stopping by to say hi and support me. But it also added a whole new level of stress and pressure, much more so than at any other round. But if that’s the price of admission, I was still all in!
Our Saturday qualifying session was first on the schedule, so it was unlikely that my dad or any of the other guests I was expecting would arrive before we went out. That helped a little with the stress level, leaving me with the typical amount of nervous energy under these circumstances. As the session approached, the fog was still low and heavy, so we all expected the customary delay as Race Control tried to determine when it would be safe enough to send us out on track.
We only had to wait 20 minutes, but it felt like forever. I was ready to get this over with, expecting that I would treat the session like another practice, with little expectation of improving my time, or needing to. I had made a plan with Shanea and Hailey for the to watch the times of my closest competitors, and give me a signal from the Hot Pit wall if any of them were going faster and threatening my current grid position. In other words, unless or until they gave me that signal, I would not push hard enough to risk crashing. On the other hand, if I got the signal, I would know that I needed to up my pace, but that if my rivals could, so could I, and it would be worth the risk. But every time I exited the final turn and flew past them on the front straight, I saw no signals, and in fact, could tell that they were not concerned that I would lose my position.
Sure enough, when I arrived in Parc Ferme at the end of the session, Shanea confirmed that my P13 grid spot was secure. I did it! My best qualifying position of the season! I was so stoked and enjoyed a brief celebration when I heard the news. But it was only brief, because Shanea leaned in and whispered to me that neither Carbon nor Neiko managed a qualifying time. To their credit, they both improved their lap times from the previous afternoon, but were both under the cutoff time that would put them on the grid.
I hate to be overly dramatic, but I was very affected by this. I was not only looking forward to racing with both of them, but I really believed it would happen. I’m sure no one was more disappointed than they were, but I was really upset and felt so bad for them. Of course, I know how much goes into planning and preparing for a MotoAmerica weekend. The time, energy, stress, money, and other resources, not to mention all the expectations, hopes, and dreams. I’m sure I would be devastated if I didn’t make the grid, but like I said, Carbon has an almost supernatural way of staying positive and persevering. And as Neiko’s coach, he had apparently engendered in him the same quality, because both of them managed to deal with the situation better than I would have. I even went to Jessica, Carbon’s wife, to ask how to support him. She simply told me that he’s going to be okay, and now that he’s no longer racing, he will be focused solely on my success, so the best thing I can do is race the wheels off my bike and make him proud. There aren’t a lot of people like Carbon, and I’m so grateful he’s in my life.
Well, I was the only rider left in our garage still racing this weekend, so Carbon switched into his Crew Chief role and made sure that my bike and I would both be ready to compete in race 1, which was first on the schedule for that afternoon.
But all work and no play make for a very boring experience, and MotoAmerica is anything but boring. One of the things I love most about racing at this level is how much effort goes into the fan experience. In our regional club races, the only spectators are other racers, their teams, and a few families and friends. But at MotoAmerica events, there are tens of thousands of fans cruising through the paddock and filling the spectator stands.
The Saturday paddock autograph session took place around midday, about an hour before my race. We set up a table at our pit entrance, and as the fans made their way through the paddock, many would stop by and have us sign posters, T-shirts, helmets, and even a dirt bike fender. We handed out little giveaway items for the kids (of all ages), like stickers, key chains, and temporary tattoos. The best part was talking with the fans about our motorcycles, about racing, and especially about our nonprofit mission to fight mental health and addiction stigma. I’ll never get used to being treated like a celebrity athlete. At least I hope I don’t.
We wrapped up the autograph session, and it was time for me to get into my gear and my racing mindset. I hid out in the RV and went through my stretching routines, including my eye-stretches, then got suited and booted, and made my way back to the pit. I could feel the all-too-familiar buzz of nervous excitement coursing through my veins as I waited for the countdown calls from Carbon, who was now fully in his Crew Chief role. With a couple minutes until go time, he called for me to mount the bike and for the warmers and stands to be removed. I rolled out of the pit, through the paddock, and onto the Hot Pit to make my way to the track entrance.
We were released for our sighting lap, and I jockeyed for position near the front. As usual, I ripped through the lap with nearly the same intensity as if it were a hot race lap. After exiting the final turn, I looked up the front straight to see Shanea waiting for me at my P13 grid spot on the right side and 5th row of the grid. I pulled up to my spot. Shanea gave me my customary kiss on the chin of my helmet, then she exited the track. Moments later were cleared for our warmup lap, and many of us used it as an opportunity to do a practice race start. Firing off the line, we sped our way through another very fast “pre-race” lap, then lined back up in our grid spots.
Head down.
Elbows out.
Lights on.
Revs up.
Lights out.
LAUNCH!
I rocketed from my grid spot and stayed to the right side of the track over the lazy left-bend crest of T1. My plan was to let the rest of the pack bunch up on the entry of T2, but when the pack arrived, I quickly realized I had made a critical mistake in judgment. As expected, the majority of the riders dove for the early apex, but this meant that there was no room for me to turn in. Before I could clear the group, #94, Josh Baird, came underneath me and blew his line, punting me to the outside of the turn, allowing #513, Adan Mendoza, to take advantage of the perfect opportunity to sweep through on a tight line at the apex. Damn it!
As we all exited T2, the pack began to stretch out. I did everything I could to hang on to the back of Josh and Adan for as long as I could, and there were moments when I seemed to be reeling them back in. But somewhere around the halfway point, I completely botched the final turn, T11, destroying my drive back onto the front straight. I knew the mistake would let Josh and Adan get away, but what caught me completely by surprise was when not one, not two, but three riders flew by me before we reached the start/finish tower! You’ve got to be absolutely friggin’ kidding!!! Talk about paying for my mistakes!
All three riders, #53, August Nord, #811, Andrew Berkley, and #16, AJ Peasley, started pulling away, and for the next couple of laps, my demons were throwing a raging party in my head. I desperately wanted to refocus and chase my rivals down, but I was fighting the nagging feeling that I had entirely blown it, would finish outside of the points after such a great qualifying position, and that maybe I didn’t actually belong out here after all. Yes, I hear how self-defeating, fatalistic, and even pathetic that sounds, but if you know me, and you’ve been paying attention, you shouldn’t be surprised!
There are times when I’m really proud of my race skills, talent, or craft. But more than anything, what I derive the most pride from is when I am able to win the battle with my demons and override my mental barriers. A couple laps after losing three positions, I was able to clear my head, remind myself what I’m capable of, and ride the living hell out of my bike!
I started charging every turn so hard that the front end kept threatening to wash out into every braking zone, and the rear wanted to step out on every exit. The bike got loose, but I rode it like a bucking bronco. Little by little, I was closing the gap to AJ. On the penultimate lap, I shot by him diving into Rainey Curve, then set my sights on Andrew. We hit the start/finish under a waving white flag that signaled the start of our final lap, and I drew up on his tail and followed him closely through the next several turns, calculating the perfect moment to strike. As we raced under the bridge before T6, I knew I was running out of track and time to make my move. Throwing caution to the wind, I drove through T6, throttle wide open and let my bike drift all the way to the paint on the right side of the track. With far better drive than Andrew, I simply needed to late brake him over the crest to the entry of the Corkscrew. I cheated to his left, to give me the inside line into the left-hander, waited until I saw him slowing, then waited a beat longer before grabbing my front brake. I drove up alongside him and timed my block pass perfectly, then flung my bike back to the right and down the remainder of the Corkscrew, having regained my position. As I flew through Rainey, it was clear that August was out of reach and whatever position I had just reclaimed was as good as it would get. Now, it was just a matter of not making any more mistakes through the final two turns. Mission accomplished!
Shooting out of T11, I ripped open the throttle, head down, and clicked through the gears as I raced to the checkered flag. And that’s a wrap!
I was still bummed about losing a couple of positions, but relieved I also got a couple back. I made my way around the circuit for the cool-down lap and took time to notice how incredibly jam-packed all the stands and viewing areas were with cheering fans. I waved to them, to the corner workers and marshals, and did my best to express my appreciation for all their support. I think this is probably my 2nd favorite part of racing in MotoAmerica, next to the autograph sessions.
I finished the cool-down lap and rolled into Parc Fermé. My team greeted me with congratulations, but I could tell they were reading my body language, which clearly was putting out mixed, if not entirely disappointed, vibes. I always get such unconditional support and encouragement from my team, and when I fall short of my goals, or even their expectations for me, I’m the only one who gives me a hard time for it. The disappointment of losing two positions, not to mention missing out on a top-10 finish, was really starting to set in. I did my best to maintain my composure, but it was beginning to weigh heavily on me.
This couldn’t have come at a worse time. We had planned a big celebration for the team, as well as my dad, and so many of my friends who came out to support me, later that afternoon and evening. I worried that I would be in too much of a funk to enjoy it, or even that I would ruin it with my sour attitude.
Fortunately for me, my team, particularly Shanea and Carbon, have a way of telling me exactly what I need to hear in situations like this. They gently acknowledged that this wasn’t the result I was expecting, but also reminded me that it was still a huge success, and told me that the hard work of clawing back two positions earned me P15 and another championship point!
Then Shanea, always able to keep the big picture in mind, even when I can’t, reminded me that we’re on the big stage – cameras and spectators, but also my guests who were here to support me, but also to enjoy the experience. Again, exactly what I needed to hear. I quickly snapped out of it and pivoted, mindful of how I was coming across and doing my best to put out positive vibes. Of course, this required a bit of “fake it ‘till you make it,” which took whatever energy I had left after a tough race. Shanea obviously picked up on this, leaned in close, and “suggested” that I excuse myself to “take a beat” in the RV. I trust her implicitly even when I don’t agree with her, but there was no doubt she was definitely giving me great advice in this circumstance, so that’s exactly what I did.
Sitting alone in the RV was a much better place for me to wrestle with my demons. For better or worse, I have had so much practice doing this that I should have a black belt in demon-fighting martial arts by now. So, it didn’t take long before I was able to shake off the funk and clear out my headspace. It wasn’t just that I got over the lousy feeling of failure and disappointment, but I was actually able to dig into the other side of the “mixed bag” of results. I didn’t just remind myself that I had another points-paying finish and battled back two positions to do it, but I also scored a few of my best laps of the weekend. And besides all of that, I was still earning my stripes as one of the fastest Super Hooligan racers in the country. Oh, and even better, I had an amazing team that made all this possible, and I was surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones who were having an incredible time, and looking forward to celebrating what we had just accomplished!
I returned to Parc Ferme in a much better mood and took the time to enjoy the post-race interactions with my team, my friends and family, and some of the other riders who I battled with during the race. I hung out until we were “released from bike jail,” then made my way back to the pit to get ready for the evening’s festivities.
The rest of the day and into the evening was a lot of fun. I rode my dad up to Corkscrew hill on the back of my Zuma scooter. He had never been on a scooter, as a driver or passenger, and was clearly not comfortable. I teased him, and we joked and had a lot of fun riding up the hill. We watched the Supersport race, which included a few of my friends, and I commentated about what to watch for as they flowed down the twisty drop off into the Corkscrew. We had a great time, which is special to me given how out of his element my dad was at a motorcycle race track. It’s a lot of fun sharing my passion with him, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.
Later that afternoon, a bunch of us explored the paddock and the Fan Zone, taking time to check out some exhibits, visit vendors, and interact with lots of interesting people and motorcycle enthusiasts. I didn’t really do this last year, as I had been so consumed by the stress of competing at my first MotoAmerica race. Determined to enjoy myself this season, I tried to really soak it all in and have some fun, both on and off the track.
That evening, Shanea barbequed dinner and fed the whole team. We laughed and joked, told stories, and continued to deepen our connection. Some of the conversation was about the race weekend, but mostly we were just a group of friends, family, and loved ones who were enjoying each other’s company and would have been having just as much fun anywhere else, so long as we were all together.