On The Pegs March 2019 - Volume 4 - Issue 3 | Page 157

On The Pegs
Vol. 4 Issue 3 - March 2019
P 157
Like me, I think many people out there have a love-hate relationship with their
motorcycles. When things are going well and you’re having a good day on the
bike, it feels almost like flying. You dodge between trees like you’re invincible, rail
corner ruts with a smoothness you never thought possible, and when you turn
the throttle, you hear the roar of the engine and can feel its power echoing in
your chest. Then, add to this the thrill of the competition, battling back and forth
with other riders, and it’s a rush like no other. Racing has also allowed me to travel
the world and see things I never could have seen without it. It’s hard not to love
something that has given you that kind of opportunity!
But for every yin, there is also yang. This lightest version of this is are the mild
frustrations of bike maintenance (“Where is that stupid t-handle, I literally just
had it”). Then getting in a little deeper, you have those unpleasant days when
you can’t seem to get out of your own way and make mistake after mistake after
mistake. Or even worse, those soul-crushing races where you give it everything
you’ve got, ride to the best of your ability, and you still come up short. The pres-
sure on you to succeed, the expectations you (and others) have for your per-
formance and the mental anguish that strikes when you fail can make for a real
pressure-cooker of a situation. I remember one van ride home from Georgia
where everyone was so disappointed and exhausted that we didn’t speak until
we hit Indy. Then of course, there’s the darkest underbelly of the sport - the pain
and the injuries. The night after ACL surgery, when I thought I was tough and
didn’t need to take my hydrocodone, I remember literally screaming myself to
sleep. Not an experience I’d care to repeat, but it’s one I risk every time I throw a
leg over the bike.
When you care about something to the point of near-obsession, it acts as an
elevation and intensification of the human experience. Without fail, my highest
highs and lowest lows have come from racing, which in turn just seems to fuel
the addiction. Nearly everything else in my life pales in comparison, and the plea-
sure of the highs still outweighs the despair of the lows. That’s why I’m still here.
So, the next time you see me covered in mud with a disgusted expression on my
face, you don’t have to feel too sorry for me. I may be miserable in the moment,
but even then, I can’t imagine living life in any other way than in pursuit of the
next motorcycle-induced high. n