Believe

I often wonder how I can get better at racing when I’m not at the track. How can I become a better racer? What am I missing? What can I improve, and how can I do it when I’m stuck in my office, or while driving to an appointment, or having trouble sleeping?

In my pondering, reading, and long conversations with various successful racers, I’m starting to see that a large component of greatness is simply believing that one is great. When wondering how I can crack the top ten of my competitive 650 Twins class, I’ve been told, “you need to believe that you belong there.”

Yeah. Now that I have more of a grasp on racing fundamentals, and I’m not worried as much about the feel of my bike or wondering if I am going to crash, I do need to believe that. And then simply not accept anything less. I need to fixate on the front of the pack on the start, and never give up my position in those first few harried corners. Now that I’ve grasped some rudimentary skills, I need to latch on to those ahead of me like a dog on a chew toy, and never give up. I belong there. That’s where I need to be. Like, I need to tell myself that the world will come to an end if I don’t get up there with those guys.

It will be different, as I go faster I will be closer to the edge of that cliff, that divide between staying upright and being sent sliding off into the abyss, and I question my ability to feel that edge when I stick a toe (or a knee puck) near it. But I know what a rear tire sliding out feels like, I’ve done that, and I think now I’ve felt what losing the front feels like. Careening through Riverside, a never ending right hand sweeper at Buttonwillow, in 50 mph winds, my bike bucking wildly and getting blown around, I felt my bars turning into the ground a handful of times. I think that is what losing the front feels like. I’m not sure why I didn’t crash, but thank goodness I didn’t. That turn is fast!

Many of the fast men I know are very factual and blunt in stating their abilities, and I find this really amazing. I’ve been successful my entire life, as a child, and as an adult, but I’ve always believed in modesty and humility. I have a hard time telling myself that I am GOOD at something, and I am not that good at racing yet, but I think that I have to trick myself into believing this to get to the next level. I wonder if this is how I was raised, or if it is a trait that we women athletes share. Is it harder for us to be cocky? And factual in saying, “hell yeah, I’m GOOD at this?”

Even men who started riding motorcycles around the same time I did head out to that grid with a lot more confidence and belief in where they belong out there. They may have a few more crashes, but that doesn’t seem to stop most of them. Not advocating carelessness and crashing, but I’d sure love to emulate their cockiness.

I’m a very visual, day dreamy kind of person, and even before I got on my first bike at MSF three years ago I was imagining myself flying down the freeway on a big sportbike, looking cool as I headed out to Starbucks. Then once I hit the track, I was dreaming of one day touching my knee down and how cool that would be. Listening to music helps. Listen to music and see yourself, in your mind, racing at the level you want to race it. Believe it is true. Keep working hard at racing skills, bike knowledge and fitness, and one day it may be true.