Racing My Way to Destiny - One Dream at A Time.
Everything happens for a reason. Or so they say.
Somehow I feel that Life gave me the fractured wrist on April 2009, one week away from Serie 3 National Race, to give me time to rest my weary self - and mind. To give me time to let go and step away from racing, long enough to come back to it again with a fresh set of point of view.
Long enough to want it back.
Long enough to want it back so bad, that upon arriving on the circuit complex for the first time after almost a year of absence, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a chill ran down my spine. And it took five minutes of straight sobbing before hands stop trembling and able to unlock the door.
28 February 2010 - and the excitement of the ongoing heat was so think I could actually breathe it in.
Then it all started coming back.
The air of anticipation, the nervous walk to the assembly area. The smell of gasoline being poured into waiting fuel tanks. The whirr of air guns tightening tire bolts. The hiss of the pressure gauges, the clattering of tools dumped rather unceremoniously to tool boxes. The slight but familiar squeaks of ignition followed by the growling roars of engines, screaming almost rhythmically as mechanics rev them up, listening and waiting for just the right sound that says it’s good to go.
The clink of dummy-grid gates being opened, the grunts and heaves as the karts are hauled off their trolleys and arranged in columns. The zippers of racing suits pulled up and that sensation of suddenly being alone in a crowd when the helmet is securely fastened and the visor clicked shut.
Then the quiet before the storm.
Just you, your kart and your thoughts.
With one command (and sometimes much luck), multiple engines all roar to life at the same time. Two by two they roll out on track, free formation, warming engines, tires, clutches, brakes, hands, bodies and psyches. Sizing up competition, checking for any spills left by the previous heat. Two laps, then slow down to a crawl. Final prayers mouthed silently, best hopes sent to the heavens. Then the red light goes off and all hell breaks loose.
And for the next 18 laps it’s just you, the kart, and the racers in front and/or behind you.
I almost forgot how that feels. Now I want to be part of it again.
It’s funny how a simple sentence can mean a hell of a lot.
I want to race again.
A simple string of words that has drastic implications. Practice, spare parts, tires, fuel, track, paddock, not to mention the race itself - race-spec-fuels, race-spec-tires, race-spec-rain-tires, race-spec-bumper, insurance, transponder, registration, the list goes on.
Funny how a simple sentence can mean a hell of a lot…of funding.
I lost count of how many inward groan I felt when realizing that it all boils down to that. Inevitable, (rather) sad, but true.
Girl, why do you have such an expensive hobby?
Am I to blame?
Hobbies are not learned. They’re ingrained in you, like a microchip planted in your brain’s motherboard since the day you were born, if not before. I didn’t ask to have that interest, yet I do. Just like I didn’t ask to be born, yet I was.
Everyone gets to die. Not everyone gets to live.
I am placed into this world by a Power greater than me, than all of us. I was born with all these ingrained in me. It’s a given. And along the way, I’ve had Life throwing me curve balls and lemons, the good, the bad and the ugly, and see what I can do with them.
I guess funding (or shortage thereof) is one of the things Life throws at me, then sits back and see what I can do with it.
I guess the fractured wrist and the consequent year off from racing is one of the things Life throws at me to see what I can do with it.
Well alright then. Let’s see what I can do with them.
How? I don’t know. I have no idea.
I just know I want to race.
And win.
And win more.
And win the championship.
And move up to bigger and better things.
And win
And win some more.
And win some more championship.
And win the biggest championship of all.
Yes, I always knew I’m destined for bigger and better things.
How? When? Where?
No idea. Really.
I just know I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take one step
~Martin Luther King, Jr.~
Somehow I feel that Life gave me the fractured wrist on April 2009, one week away from Serie 3 National Race, to give me time to rest my weary self - and mind. To give me time to let go and step away from racing, long enough to come back to it again with a fresh set of point of view.
Long enough to want it back.
Long enough to want it back so bad, that upon arriving on the circuit complex for the first time after almost a year of absence, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a chill ran down my spine. And it took five minutes of straight sobbing before hands stop trembling and able to unlock the door.
28 February 2010 - and the excitement of the ongoing heat was so think I could actually breathe it in.
Then it all started coming back.
The air of anticipation, the nervous walk to the assembly area. The smell of gasoline being poured into waiting fuel tanks. The whirr of air guns tightening tire bolts. The hiss of the pressure gauges, the clattering of tools dumped rather unceremoniously to tool boxes. The slight but familiar squeaks of ignition followed by the growling roars of engines, screaming almost rhythmically as mechanics rev them up, listening and waiting for just the right sound that says it’s good to go.
The clink of dummy-grid gates being opened, the grunts and heaves as the karts are hauled off their trolleys and arranged in columns. The zippers of racing suits pulled up and that sensation of suddenly being alone in a crowd when the helmet is securely fastened and the visor clicked shut.
Then the quiet before the storm.
Just you, your kart and your thoughts.
With one command (and sometimes much luck), multiple engines all roar to life at the same time. Two by two they roll out on track, free formation, warming engines, tires, clutches, brakes, hands, bodies and psyches. Sizing up competition, checking for any spills left by the previous heat. Two laps, then slow down to a crawl. Final prayers mouthed silently, best hopes sent to the heavens. Then the red light goes off and all hell breaks loose.
And for the next 18 laps it’s just you, the kart, and the racers in front and/or behind you.
I almost forgot how that feels. Now I want to be part of it again.
It’s funny how a simple sentence can mean a hell of a lot.
I want to race again.
A simple string of words that has drastic implications. Practice, spare parts, tires, fuel, track, paddock, not to mention the race itself - race-spec-fuels, race-spec-tires, race-spec-rain-tires, race-spec-bumper, insurance, transponder, registration, the list goes on.
Funny how a simple sentence can mean a hell of a lot…of funding.
I lost count of how many inward groan I felt when realizing that it all boils down to that. Inevitable, (rather) sad, but true.
Girl, why do you have such an expensive hobby?
Am I to blame?
Hobbies are not learned. They’re ingrained in you, like a microchip planted in your brain’s motherboard since the day you were born, if not before. I didn’t ask to have that interest, yet I do. Just like I didn’t ask to be born, yet I was.
Everyone gets to die. Not everyone gets to live.
I am placed into this world by a Power greater than me, than all of us. I was born with all these ingrained in me. It’s a given. And along the way, I’ve had Life throwing me curve balls and lemons, the good, the bad and the ugly, and see what I can do with them.
I guess funding (or shortage thereof) is one of the things Life throws at me, then sits back and see what I can do with it.
I guess the fractured wrist and the consequent year off from racing is one of the things Life throws at me to see what I can do with it.
Well alright then. Let’s see what I can do with them.
How? I don’t know. I have no idea.
I just know I want to race.
And win.
And win more.
And win the championship.
And move up to bigger and better things.
And win
And win some more.
And win some more championship.
And win the biggest championship of all.
Yes, I always knew I’m destined for bigger and better things.
How? When? Where?
No idea. Really.
I just know I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take one step
~Martin Luther King, Jr.~