(no subject)
Well, it's March. Spring is happening. I can tell, because there is now a box of tissues at my desk.
Spring is also a lovely time for a ride out on two wheels, whether they be the sort you power with your own legs or with hundred million year old hydrocarbons. Now that I've got the replacement part to fix my gearshift, not to mention having finally gotten my tags in the mail from the DMV, my bike is once again roadworthy and I'm taking advantage of every opportunity I can get a hold of to get out and ride.
In some ways, it's still a bit terrifying to be zipping down the road at high speed with nothing to protect you other than a styrofoam and polycarbonate shell around my head and some dead cow hide strapped around my torso. It's not something that I think about all the time - more often the joy of riding, the whole "being one with your machine" and the open road are more than enough to drown out the paranoia - but there are always times when it comes back. Times like nearly getting flattened by an inattentive truck driver pulling in to a gas station. Times like coming into a corner a little hot and realizing I don't have the confidence to take the corner at that speed and slow way down rather than risk ending up in the dirt.
I really want to overcome that fear. (The second fear, at least; I believe having a healthy amount of respect and caution for large trucks bearing down on oneself is beneficial!) I really want to gain more confidence in myself and more mastery of my bike. As with many fears, I understand that the best (and sometimes only) way of overcoming it is to confront it. I'll never improve my abilities if I don't test them, I'll never expand my limits if I don't push them. That said, the open road isn't really the place to confront those fears and push those limits. It's not like asking an ophidiophobe to reach into a terrarium and give the garter snake a little touch where the worst thing that can happen is upsetting the creature and getting bit on the finger. Push your limits too hard in the wrong corner on the open road and you might wind up in the bushes, bouncing over rocks, or getting extremely up close and personal with the front grille of the truck in oncoming traffic. That is one snake you don't want to be bitten by.
So I've all but made the decision that what I really need to do is visit the track. Track days, for those not in the know, are days where race tracks open up to the general public for the day (and for a fee). It is a superior environment in every way for finding, pushing, and expanding one's limits. There are no errant gravel patches threatening your connection to the road, no animals waiting around a bush to leap in front of you, no drivers trying to pilot their two-ton SUV down the road while updating Facebook on their mobile. Coaches to watch what you are doing and let you know what to do better. Wide open spaces so you aren't likely to smack into a pole in the off chance you take a dive. Medical personnel on hand to swoop in and help in the off chance that something goes really awry. Of course, it's not without its downsides. It isn't cheap to go (the local track charges $200 for an all-day session). It's not cheap to get ready - I would need to secure a few more pieces of gear that isn't cheap, but they're things I ought to get anyway.
There is one big hurdle in my way, and ironically it's the one thing that going will help me overcome : fear. I fear going out there and sticking out like a sore thumb due to my being a novice. I fear being laughably slow on the track and getting in the way of those who aren't so burdened. I fear being mocked for showing up on my little bike and getting lost among those with high displacement, high performance machines. I'm afraid of doing something wrong, saying something wrong, of being effectively laughed off the track. From a purely logical point of view, I know these fears are unfounded. I know that the organizers of the events welcome riders of all experience levels, even those who have just barely started riding a motorcycle. I know that there are other novices that go to these events. I know that they split riders into groups so that you wind up riding with other novices and others who aren't there to burn up the track at the highest speeds possible. I know that there are bikes there of every shape and size, and I know that riders who attend these events tend to be friendly, welcoming and inclusive. I know that there is really nothing to be afraid of, yet when I try to close my eyes and imagine the fun and the experience, I get choked up with those fears that all tell me one thing : you can't do this.
I wish I wasn't such a fearful person. I'm always afraid of not fitting in, of not being accepted, or feeling like I don't belong somewhere. It's a crippling sort of social anxiety that's kept me from enjoying many things in the past. I really need to grow up and learn to overcome my fears and anxieties so I can do the things I want to do and be the person I want to be, not just some little shut in ... so, I think this is one of those things I just have to make myself do. Find a moment of boldness, plug in my credit card number and commit myself to swallowing my anxiety so I don't burn $200 for nothing :)
Spring is also a lovely time for a ride out on two wheels, whether they be the sort you power with your own legs or with hundred million year old hydrocarbons. Now that I've got the replacement part to fix my gearshift, not to mention having finally gotten my tags in the mail from the DMV, my bike is once again roadworthy and I'm taking advantage of every opportunity I can get a hold of to get out and ride.
In some ways, it's still a bit terrifying to be zipping down the road at high speed with nothing to protect you other than a styrofoam and polycarbonate shell around my head and some dead cow hide strapped around my torso. It's not something that I think about all the time - more often the joy of riding, the whole "being one with your machine" and the open road are more than enough to drown out the paranoia - but there are always times when it comes back. Times like nearly getting flattened by an inattentive truck driver pulling in to a gas station. Times like coming into a corner a little hot and realizing I don't have the confidence to take the corner at that speed and slow way down rather than risk ending up in the dirt.
I really want to overcome that fear. (The second fear, at least; I believe having a healthy amount of respect and caution for large trucks bearing down on oneself is beneficial!) I really want to gain more confidence in myself and more mastery of my bike. As with many fears, I understand that the best (and sometimes only) way of overcoming it is to confront it. I'll never improve my abilities if I don't test them, I'll never expand my limits if I don't push them. That said, the open road isn't really the place to confront those fears and push those limits. It's not like asking an ophidiophobe to reach into a terrarium and give the garter snake a little touch where the worst thing that can happen is upsetting the creature and getting bit on the finger. Push your limits too hard in the wrong corner on the open road and you might wind up in the bushes, bouncing over rocks, or getting extremely up close and personal with the front grille of the truck in oncoming traffic. That is one snake you don't want to be bitten by.
So I've all but made the decision that what I really need to do is visit the track. Track days, for those not in the know, are days where race tracks open up to the general public for the day (and for a fee). It is a superior environment in every way for finding, pushing, and expanding one's limits. There are no errant gravel patches threatening your connection to the road, no animals waiting around a bush to leap in front of you, no drivers trying to pilot their two-ton SUV down the road while updating Facebook on their mobile. Coaches to watch what you are doing and let you know what to do better. Wide open spaces so you aren't likely to smack into a pole in the off chance you take a dive. Medical personnel on hand to swoop in and help in the off chance that something goes really awry. Of course, it's not without its downsides. It isn't cheap to go (the local track charges $200 for an all-day session). It's not cheap to get ready - I would need to secure a few more pieces of gear that isn't cheap, but they're things I ought to get anyway.
There is one big hurdle in my way, and ironically it's the one thing that going will help me overcome : fear. I fear going out there and sticking out like a sore thumb due to my being a novice. I fear being laughably slow on the track and getting in the way of those who aren't so burdened. I fear being mocked for showing up on my little bike and getting lost among those with high displacement, high performance machines. I'm afraid of doing something wrong, saying something wrong, of being effectively laughed off the track. From a purely logical point of view, I know these fears are unfounded. I know that the organizers of the events welcome riders of all experience levels, even those who have just barely started riding a motorcycle. I know that there are other novices that go to these events. I know that they split riders into groups so that you wind up riding with other novices and others who aren't there to burn up the track at the highest speeds possible. I know that there are bikes there of every shape and size, and I know that riders who attend these events tend to be friendly, welcoming and inclusive. I know that there is really nothing to be afraid of, yet when I try to close my eyes and imagine the fun and the experience, I get choked up with those fears that all tell me one thing : you can't do this.
I wish I wasn't such a fearful person. I'm always afraid of not fitting in, of not being accepted, or feeling like I don't belong somewhere. It's a crippling sort of social anxiety that's kept me from enjoying many things in the past. I really need to grow up and learn to overcome my fears and anxieties so I can do the things I want to do and be the person I want to be, not just some little shut in ... so, I think this is one of those things I just have to make myself do. Find a moment of boldness, plug in my credit card number and commit myself to swallowing my anxiety so I don't burn $200 for nothing :)