| A Lap at Thunderhill Raceway |
PresentFocus "Explorations in Awareness"
| The only constant in life is change |
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It is 7:45 am and already the temperature is pushing 90 degrees as I leave my hotel room for the 10-minute
drive to the track. On my way to the track, that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to build. In the
previous four months, I logged over 500 laps at this three-mile track, located just outside the Northern
California town of Willows. Today is my last day of riding for the year and the nervous ache in my stomach is
stronger than ever. Yesterday the ambulance took away a rider who flipped over the top of his bike in a
spectacular crash at 135 miles per hour. I had to remind myself that his accident had nothing to do with me,
except to remind me of the dangers of my pursuit to become faster and faster, until I truly understood what “in
the moment” really means in practice.
As I visited the feeling in my gut, I realized that I still had not found my goal. I was still chasing the meaning of
presence in the real world. For some time now, I have understood the source of this nervous energy. In about
an hour, I would be turning the concept of time on its head, yet again. It is always the same. The act hurtling
down the front straightaway at 160 miles per hour, while trying to hit a breaking marker within a couple of feet,
shifts time away from normal. I would be entering a realm, which has no relationship with the normal passage of
time. How can it, when a rider covers two-thirds the length of a football field every second. It is a ballet of sorts
because the other motorcycles are traveling at similar speeds, so changes between riders happen slowly. Only
when a rider crashes, are they suddenly yanked back into normal time.
Today was different from the other days. Since this was my last day of the year, the previous evening I spent a
couple of hours with the track map writing down everything I had learned about what to do at every point on
the track. I had over seventy notes on braking points, gearshifts, track position, body position, and where to
look. Today was the day for me to go faster than I ever had. As I pulled into the front gate, the nervous ache
began to transform into a feeling of excitement. Yesterday’s crash was so spectacular that the gate attendant
wanted to tell me all about it, including how the man’s femur was sticking out of his leg. It did not matter
anymore, I was excited, and I was there to ride.
Getting ready to go it is not a simple matter. I was glad that I had already put a fresh set of tires on last night.
Thankfully, once a routine is established, getting ready has a calming effect. Fear does not belong at the track
because it causes crashes. The first order of business is to check for any loose parts and check tire pressures. A
single pound of air pressure can make a difference. Once the bike is ready, I head over to tech inspection and
sign in for the day. It is a fun time of anticipation and an opportunity to visit with the other riders. Half the
motorcycles have crash damage, but then, many of these people race. It is a funny camaraderie, where
everybody knows who the fast riders are. It feels good to be one of the fast guys. Only a handful of riders leave
huge arcs of rubber on the track as they slide out of the corners. I was happy to be one of them.
Back in the pits, I put on my tire warmers and start the generator. It is time to sit back and have a drink before
donning my leathers. This is all part of a routine that is vitally important to success in what some say is the
ultimate extreme sport. Twenty minutes before the first session I start to get dressed. The first piece of gear after
stripping down to my underwear, is a nylon blend undergarment designed to keep me cool and make my
leathers easier to take off after coming off the track in 100 degree heat. The undergarment feels slippery as I
start putting on my leathers. Once my legs are in, I put my boots on. I sit back and have another drink while I
wait for the five-minute call over the loudspeakers.
The call comes as my excitement builds, “A-group riders – 5 minutes”. I strap on my back protector, insert my
arms into the sleeves, and pull my leathers up over my shoulders. A quick zip and I feel encased in a shield of
leather. I put my helmet on, remove the tire warmers, and slip on a pair of gloves. I love this moment for I have
become a warrior about ready to head into battle. I remove the front stand, then the rear stand and climb
aboard into what feels like a cockpit. A touch of the electric start and my bike comes to life with a raspy
exhaust note that sounds a bit nasty. A few blips of the throttle and I head over to the track entrance. My
Suzuki GSXR600 supersport race-bike is perfectly balanced; it weighs 375 pounds, puts out 120 horsepower,
and redlines at 16 thousand RPM. It is a nasty machine indeed.
As I wait for the signal to enter, I am completely calm in a place of no thought. I am empty of emotion as I wait.
The tower displays the green flag and we get the signal to go. The entrance is one-half way down the front
straight and the procedure is to take the first turn on the outside before opening the throttle for turn 2. I crack
the throttle open as I exit turn 1. The bike surges toward turn 2 as I exceed 100 mph for the first time that day. I
tip the bike into turn 2 at a sedate 100 mph and feel my knee touch the ground. It is a funny sensation as the
nylon knee-puck scrapes along the ground. I note the familiar feeling of the greasy stickiness of artificially
warmed tires. The next time through this corner and that effect will be gone. Something already feels different. I
am hitting my points within inches as I turn up the volume. The first lap of my eight-lap beginning session is
always about three-quarter pace.
As I exit turn 15 for my first hot-lap, I know what is different. The work I spent writing everything down last
night is paying huge dividends. Onto the front straight, I tuck down behind the small fairing and twist the throttle
wide open. Up through the gears I go until it is time to break for turn 1. I pop up into a blast of 160 mph air, as
I squeeze the breaks until the back tire is just skimming above the ground and the front tire is near the limit of
traction. The air resistance itself is part of the process of slowing to the 110 mile per hour first turn. As I start
into the first turn, I ease up on the breaks slightly, and use the increased friction the front wheel creates on turn-
in, to slow the bike a little further. I have already moved my butt off the bike and am gripping the gas tank with
my knee. I have special pads on the side of the gas tank that help me hold on. Hanging completely off the bike,
my knee sliding on the ground, I push the bike away from me, and twist the throttle open hard. By pushing the
bike away, I cause it to dive toward the inside of the corner, which I counteract with more throttle.
Riding on the track is all about maximizing opportunity. Turn 2 is a 180-degree sweeper with a 120 mph entry
speed. I hit about 140 mph before reaching my breaking marker. It is one of my favorite turns as my bike is
perfectly geared for this corner. As I approach the exit, I reach 16 thousand rpm and something magical
happens. Since my lean-angle is so severe, my rear tire is effectively a smaller radius. As I pick the bike up onto
the fatter part of the tire, the rpm drops because I have changed the diameter of the rear tire through standing
the bike up. At wide-open throttle, I feel literally shot out of the corner as the couple of thousand rpm is quickly
use up at full acceleration. It is as if I am a pebble in a giant slingshot. I shift up one gear to get a few seconds of
additional acceleration.
I hurtle toward the off-camber turn 3 and come in tight to the inside. On the exit, I make a quick flip into turn 4
and head up the hill at over 80 mph. Turn 5 is a crest followed by a downhill high-speed right hand bend.
Sometimes, my front wheel comes off the ground as I crest the turn. It is a very tricky corner. Turn 6 is a fast
left-hander, which is vitally important for a good drive into the fastest turn on the track. Turn 7 is a 135 mph,
knee down sweeper that shows no mercy for mistakes. Exiting too wide on this turn becomes a trip into the dirt
followed by a trip to the hospital.
Turn 8 is a quick jog that begs for a throttle check because the turn can easily upset the bike and throw the rider
off at over 120 mph. However, to check the throttle before the uphill approach to turn 9 is a big hit to a good
lap time. I stay on the throttle, slam the bike into turn 8 and head up the hill to another favorite corner. Turn 9 is
a blind high-speed left-hander with a downhill exit. Lining up with a water tower in the distance is the only way
to know there will be track underneath after cresting the hill. It only took one time, finding myself pointed
toward the dirt, to use this marker every time. Turn 10 is a high-speed banked corner at the end of a long
downhill approach. Turn 11 quickly follows, which is the entrance to a really tight s-turn that dumps me onto the
back straightaway. My speed quickly builds to 140 mph as I approach the last two turns. Turns 14 and 15 are
both right-handers that are almost close enough to make one turn out of them, but not quite. To mess these
turns up compromises the entire next lap because of a slow exit out of turn 15.
I come off the track after eight laps having found the place of comfort I was looking for. I put my bike on the
stands, pull my helmet off, and check my tires. I check for the wear pattern, which is an indicator of the quality
of my suspension settings. I admire the melted bits of rubber hanging off the sides of the tires as I also check for
any cuts among the pebbles embedded in the hot rubber. Next, I checked the air pressure to make sure it had
increased the correct number of psi. After putting the tire warmers back on and starting the generator, I strip my
leathers down to my waist. It is time to get a drink and grab my lap timer. I was pleased to see 208s (2 minutes
8 seconds). The slowest lap was within one-half second of the fastest lap, which is just as important as the time.
I could sense it was going to be a good day.
That afternoon I took part in a three-lap sprint race. It was time to see what I had learned in 1700 track miles. I
was the third fastest motorcycle at the track that day. The only two bikes faster were both 1000 cc rockets and
I was riding a 600. Best for me was to see that in my final two laps of the race, I ran a 206.54 and a 206.44. I
averaged seven thousandths of a second difference, per turn, between the two laps of this three-mile track! It
takes about three tenths of a second to click a stopwatch on and off.
I learned that by knowing exactly what point I was at on the track and how accurately I had hit my previous
points, told me where I would be within a few inches for the next several points. Everything had slowed down
and it was like being in a bubble with all kinds of time to think about what was happening in the moment. I
already knew where I would be two turns ahead! Time had slowed while in this alternate dimension. I coined
the phrase, “you have to know where you have been, to know where you are, so that you may know where
you are going”. It was no accident that I reached this point in understanding.
I trained hard through my Aikido practice, which is about finding a dynamic sense of balance through centering
movements at the waist. I trained in yoga, which improves flexibility, increases awareness, and improves static
balance. I studied Flow theory, which is the theory behind finding the zone. In addition, I completed eight days
of flat track training at American Supercamp that year and two days of training with Doug Chandler, a former
national champion road racer. My commitment to excellence, setting realistic goals, and willingness to train all
aspects of my body and mind are what gave me the tools to meet my goal of exploring “the moment” in reality.
It is 7:45 am and already the temperature is pushing 90 degrees as I leave my hotel room for the 10-minute
drive to the track. On my way to the track, that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to build. In the
previous four months, I logged over 500 laps at this three-mile track, located just outside the Northern
California town of Willows. Today is my last day of riding for the year and the nervous ache in my stomach is
stronger than ever. Yesterday the ambulance took away a rider who flipped over the top of his bike in a
spectacular crash at 135 miles per hour. I had to remind myself that his accident had nothing to do with me,
except to remind me of the dangers of my pursuit to become faster and faster, until I truly understood what “in
the moment” really means in practice.
As I visited the feeling in my gut, I realized that I still had not found my goal. I was still chasing the meaning of
presence in the real world. For some time now, I have understood the source of this nervous energy. In about
an hour, I would be turning the concept of time on its head, yet again. It is always the same. The act hurtling
down the front straightaway at 160 miles per hour, while trying to hit a breaking marker within a couple of feet,
shifts time away from normal. I would be entering a realm, which has no relationship with the normal passage of
time. How can it, when a rider covers two-thirds the length of a football field every second. It is a ballet of sorts
because the other motorcycles are traveling at similar speeds, so changes between riders happen slowly. Only
when a rider crashes, are they suddenly yanked back into normal time.
Today was different from the other days. Since this was my last day of the year, the previous evening I spent a
couple of hours with the track map writing down everything I had learned about what to do at every point on
the track. I had over seventy notes on braking points, gearshifts, track position, body position, and where to
look. Today was the day for me to go faster than I ever had. As I pulled into the front gate, the nervous ache
began to transform into a feeling of excitement. Yesterday’s crash was so spectacular that the gate attendant
wanted to tell me all about it, including how the man’s femur was sticking out of his leg. It did not matter
anymore, I was excited, and I was there to ride.
Getting ready to go it is not a simple matter. I was glad that I had already put a fresh set of tires on last night.
Thankfully, once a routine is established, getting ready has a calming effect. Fear does not belong at the track
because it causes crashes. The first order of business is to check for any loose parts and check tire pressures. A
single pound of air pressure can make a difference. Once the bike is ready, I head over to tech inspection and
sign in for the day. It is a fun time of anticipation and an opportunity to visit with the other riders. Half the
motorcycles have crash damage, but then, many of these people race. It is a funny camaraderie, where
everybody knows who the fast riders are. It feels good to be one of the fast guys. Only a handful of riders leave
huge arcs of rubber on the track as they slide out of the corners. I was happy to be one of them.
Back in the pits, I put on my tire warmers and start the generator. It is time to sit back and have a drink before
donning my leathers. This is all part of a routine that is vitally important to success in what some say is the
ultimate extreme sport. Twenty minutes before the first session I start to get dressed. The first piece of gear after
stripping down to my underwear, is a nylon blend undergarment designed to keep me cool and make my
leathers easier to take off after coming off the track in 100 degree heat. The undergarment feels slippery as I
start putting on my leathers. Once my legs are in, I put my boots on. I sit back and have another drink while I
wait for the five-minute call over the loudspeakers.
The call comes as my excitement builds, “A-group riders – 5 minutes”. I strap on my back protector, insert my
arms into the sleeves, and pull my leathers up over my shoulders. A quick zip and I feel encased in a shield of
leather. I put my helmet on, remove the tire warmers, and slip on a pair of gloves. I love this moment for I have
become a warrior about ready to head into battle. I remove the front stand, then the rear stand and climb
aboard into what feels like a cockpit. A touch of the electric start and my bike comes to life with a raspy
exhaust note that sounds a bit nasty. A few blips of the throttle and I head over to the track entrance. My
Suzuki GSXR600 supersport race-bike is perfectly balanced; it weighs 375 pounds, puts out 120 horsepower,
and redlines at 16 thousand RPM. It is a nasty machine indeed.
As I wait for the signal to enter, I am completely calm in a place of no thought. I am empty of emotion as I wait.
The tower displays the green flag and we get the signal to go. The entrance is one-half way down the front
straight and the procedure is to take the first turn on the outside before opening the throttle for turn 2. I crack
the throttle open as I exit turn 1. The bike surges toward turn 2 as I exceed 100 mph for the first time that day. I
tip the bike into turn 2 at a sedate 100 mph and feel my knee touch the ground. It is a funny sensation as the
nylon knee-puck scrapes along the ground. I note the familiar feeling of the greasy stickiness of artificially
warmed tires. The next time through this corner and that effect will be gone. Something already feels different. I
am hitting my points within inches as I turn up the volume. The first lap of my eight-lap beginning session is
always about three-quarter pace.
As I exit turn 15 for my first hot-lap, I know what is different. The work I spent writing everything down last
night is paying huge dividends. Onto the front straight, I tuck down behind the small fairing and twist the throttle
wide open. Up through the gears I go until it is time to break for turn 1. I pop up into a blast of 160 mph air, as
I squeeze the breaks until the back tire is just skimming above the ground and the front tire is near the limit of
traction. The air resistance itself is part of the process of slowing to the 110 mile per hour first turn. As I start
into the first turn, I ease up on the breaks slightly, and use the increased friction the front wheel creates on turn-
in, to slow the bike a little further. I have already moved my butt off the bike and am gripping the gas tank with
my knee. I have special pads on the side of the gas tank that help me hold on. Hanging completely off the bike,
my knee sliding on the ground, I push the bike away from me, and twist the throttle open hard. By pushing the
bike away, I cause it to dive toward the inside of the corner, which I counteract with more throttle.
Riding on the track is all about maximizing opportunity. Turn 2 is a 180-degree sweeper with a 120 mph entry
speed. I hit about 140 mph before reaching my breaking marker. It is one of my favorite turns as my bike is
perfectly geared for this corner. As I approach the exit, I reach 16 thousand rpm and something magical
happens. Since my lean-angle is so severe, my rear tire is effectively a smaller radius. As I pick the bike up onto
the fatter part of the tire, the rpm drops because I have changed the diameter of the rear tire through standing
the bike up. At wide-open throttle, I feel literally shot out of the corner as the couple of thousand rpm is quickly
use up at full acceleration. It is as if I am a pebble in a giant slingshot. I shift up one gear to get a few seconds of
additional acceleration.
I hurtle toward the off-camber turn 3 and come in tight to the inside. On the exit, I make a quick flip into turn 4
and head up the hill at over 80 mph. Turn 5 is a crest followed by a downhill high-speed right hand bend.
Sometimes, my front wheel comes off the ground as I crest the turn. It is a very tricky corner. Turn 6 is a fast
left-hander, which is vitally important for a good drive into the fastest turn on the track. Turn 7 is a 135 mph,
knee down sweeper that shows no mercy for mistakes. Exiting too wide on this turn becomes a trip into the dirt
followed by a trip to the hospital.
Turn 8 is a quick jog that begs for a throttle check because the turn can easily upset the bike and throw the rider
off at over 120 mph. However, to check the throttle before the uphill approach to turn 9 is a big hit to a good
lap time. I stay on the throttle, slam the bike into turn 8 and head up the hill to another favorite corner. Turn 9 is
a blind high-speed left-hander with a downhill exit. Lining up with a water tower in the distance is the only way
to know there will be track underneath after cresting the hill. It only took one time, finding myself pointed
toward the dirt, to use this marker every time. Turn 10 is a high-speed banked corner at the end of a long
downhill approach. Turn 11 quickly follows, which is the entrance to a really tight s-turn that dumps me onto the
back straightaway. My speed quickly builds to 140 mph as I approach the last two turns. Turns 14 and 15 are
both right-handers that are almost close enough to make one turn out of them, but not quite. To mess these
turns up compromises the entire next lap because of a slow exit out of turn 15.
I come off the track after eight laps having found the place of comfort I was looking for. I put my bike on the
stands, pull my helmet off, and check my tires. I check for the wear pattern, which is an indicator of the quality
of my suspension settings. I admire the melted bits of rubber hanging off the sides of the tires as I also check for
any cuts among the pebbles embedded in the hot rubber. Next, I checked the air pressure to make sure it had
increased the correct number of psi. After putting the tire warmers back on and starting the generator, I strip my
leathers down to my waist. It is time to get a drink and grab my lap timer. I was pleased to see 208s (2 minutes
8 seconds). The slowest lap was within one-half second of the fastest lap, which is just as important as the time.
I could sense it was going to be a good day.
That afternoon I took part in a three-lap sprint race. It was time to see what I had learned in 1700 track miles. I
was the third fastest motorcycle at the track that day. The only two bikes faster were both 1000 cc rockets and
I was riding a 600. Best for me was to see that in my final two laps of the race, I ran a 206.54 and a 206.44. I
averaged seven thousandths of a second difference, per turn, between the two laps of this three-mile track! It
takes about three tenths of a second to click a stopwatch on and off.
I learned that by knowing exactly what point I was at on the track and how accurately I had hit my previous
points, told me where I would be within a few inches for the next several points. Everything had slowed down
and it was like being in a bubble with all kinds of time to think about what was happening in the moment. I
already knew where I would be two turns ahead! Time had slowed while in this alternate dimension. I coined
the phrase, “you have to know where you have been, to know where you are, so that you may know where
you are going”. It was no accident that I reached this point in understanding.
I trained hard through my Aikido practice, which is about finding a dynamic sense of balance through centering
movements at the waist. I trained in yoga, which improves flexibility, increases awareness, and improves static
balance. I studied Flow theory, which is the theory behind finding the zone. In addition, I completed eight days
of flat track training at American Supercamp that year and two days of training with Doug Chandler, a former
national champion road racer. My commitment to excellence, setting realistic goals, and willingness to train all
aspects of my body and mind are what gave me the tools to meet my goal of exploring “the moment” in reality.