Going into anything I do, especially competitive activities, I always give myself goals. I set my goals reasonably, never so far out of reach that they are preposterous, but not so shallow that they don't make me strive for a little more. Normally I am good about meeting them, at least a majority of them, at least the major ones; this weekend I met none.
The week leading up to race weekend was a little chaotic with school and work. I had midterms and a lot of papers/projects due. I was up late every night into the early hours. Typically seeing a sunrise is a beautiful thing; when the sun is rising from behind your computer screen instead of the mountain range, it is a thing of terror. Not only did this screw up my sleep schedule which made the 6:15am alarm on Saturday morning in Napa even more torturous than normal, it made every part of me lethargic.
Friday after work, I got home and had a few things on the bike which had to be done prior to leaving for the track. I was hoping to get them done through the week before, but there was simply no time. Living up to the cliche race preparation scenario, it was having to be done at the last minute, and I was way behind schedule. I didn't arrive in Napa until around 10:30pm, about 3 hours behind schedule. Normally 10:30 wouldn't be SO bad, but I still had school work that needed to be done and turned in within the hour, including a test which needed to be taken online. Midnight came and I just finished what needed to be done - time to eat dinner, finally. But, about 5 minutes into dinner, my computer melts down as though skynet has taken over... perfect!!
The obsessive nagging of my early morning alarm rudely brought me into Saturday. My eyes were swollen from lack of sleep, and I can barley walk from the fatigue - I knew this would be tough. I ate the muffins my girlfriend, Georgia, made and downed some orange juice when arriving at the track. I kept trying to pump myself up, kept trying to psyche myself out of my daze, kept trying to avoid the inevitable. Because we were not able to get to Infineon on time the night before and set-up, all the paddock spots were pretty much taken. We ended up pitting far back against the hillside, just under the sheep - I guessed we figured they needed company.
The Signs
I finished setting up my suspension for this particular track and brought the bike to tech. I roll into tech and this guy begins talking to me as though I was his long time friend, I have no idea who this guy is. Turns out he is going to tech my bike, and then he introduces himself, "Oh - by the way, Dan I am Sam... Sam Richards". Yes, the Sam Richards who I beat at the line in the previous race. He and I have chit chatted through the local motorcycle forum, BARF, and come to find I have done this to him a few times at Infineon. He also mentioned that he had been practicing the final turn here, and says he's got something for me - great. So now I am suppose to have this guy tech my bike?! This guy who I am meeting for the first time and also has it out for me?! Crap this can't be good. Turns out everything was OK and Sam was a pleasure with which to have a conversation. Sam actually helped me out with something Sunday morning as a result of my own bonehead move ... thanks again, Sam. But this sigh of relief was only a precursor to what would happen next.
Realizing I forgot to fill my tires with air prior to leaving for the track I rode over to vendor row to steal some air and calibrate my pressure gauge. Rather then visiting my Michelin supplier, I rolled the bike into the chock at the Pirelli tent. I get off, calibrate my gauge and fill my tires. I roll the hose up and put it back where i found it, stand to the left of my bike and roll it out of the chock. Just at that time, the chock decided it didn't like my front tire and grabbed hold of it like a scared old lady grabbing her purse in an elevator in Compton. It twisted the front inward and the bike began to fall to the right, away from me. I tried to bring it back and pull it toward me, but I looked more like a nervous 15 year-old boy dancing terribly at prom; sweating, grunting, butt out and away, doing everything in his power to hold tight on, but not get his waist too close to hers. At that point I had to let my date fall to the ground ... it happened ... I broke my virginity of paddock motorcycle accidents, I guess now I can call myself a man.
Saturday practice sucked, I was moving about 10 seconds per lap slower than normal and was tired as hell. Right after the last practice, my tire warmers take a crap, and I am left without for the remainder of the weekend (yeah, cold tires !!). Then I discovered I had a seal leak in my master cylinder and was slowly but surely getting air into my brake system. Just as I am bleeding the system, getting ready for race 1, I see my mother drive up in her truck. She has never been to any of my races and it was great to see her finally make it out with my other family and friends who come and spectate, I just wished I had time to talk or show her around before the races began.
Middleweight Race
didn't know what to expect. The green flag drops and I actually get an OK start, nothing great, just enough to fall back only to 4th. I soon realized that this race could turn out better than I had thought and I may have a chance at a podium. Going into turn four, I get passed on the right side by a bike and set of leathers I had not seen before. I figured this was Hughes, whom I saw on the entry list prior to the weekend. Turned out Hughes didn't show (at least that I saw) and I was just passed by George Myshlyayev, a name I have not seen before. When I fell back to fifth I kept pace for the whole lap with the front 4 until we hit turn 11. Turn 11 has always been a great turn for me and felt I could make back a position or two in this turn over the period of the race. But just as I was setting up to make a move, I over shot the entry to the turn and fell back from the front four. I began to try and catch up to the leaders, letting their battle slow them down and let it bring me in to the fight. But come turn 11 on the following lap, I once again overshoot the turn. I didn't know if I was having mechanical issues, mental issues, or simply a victim of the high wind at my back pushing me into the turn.
I decide at this point to let the lead pack go, because I am killing 6th place and I decide to let attrition of the front pack take its course. During that time I tried to drive down my lap times, but for some reason I could not get quicker than a 1:50.607, about 2 seconds off my normal times. Maybe I was trying to hard, maybe I was not trying enough, maybe it just wasn't my day - I still don't really know for sure. I do know had I been on my game, I had a real chance of have a great race, and some great battles in that pack. I ended up having the loneliest ride of my life and taking 5th, as none of the front four had wrecked out. I am lower in points than I wanted to begin the season.
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| A lonely ride to 5th |
Heavyweight Race
In the heavyweight race I was gridded 3rd, and knew I had to get at least an ok start, because these 1000cc bikes around me are going to get up to speed quickly. My start was ok, and felt a little smoother than in middleweight. The only problem was the fire breathing dragons coming up behind me and diving under me in turns one and two. I knew I would fall back and need to make passes later.
Through the race I found myself in a pack of about 5 which were held up by #725, Preston Kincaid. We all would fly through the turns, but his bike has some power and would pull down the exits making passing sketchy. Eventually when I found myself in the opportunity to safely do so, I passed him underneath in turn 9, one of my favorite passing zones.
After this, I had some good battles with #719 Warren Williams and #626 Gabrial Limon. I managed to only get down to a 1:50.386 in this race and came home with a 7th place. Something was just not enabling me to get to my normal times, nor finish where I felt I should, and could, have.
Sunday's Races
Sunday's races all kind of blended together for me. On Sunday, the wind coming in was horrific, and with it came massive allergy attacks. At one point I had to actually take a paper towel and wipe my eyeball. No, not wipe around my eye, open my eye and rub the towel against the whites of my eyes to get out the contaminants. I felt better afterwards, but that was not a pleasant thing to do. I finished the day going even slower than Saturday - go figure - with only a 1:51.302. I let Sam Richards kick my butt, and finished no where near my goals. I did have a few good battles along the way, and had some fun (which is the important thing at the end of the day).
In the 600 Superbike race, I had a great race to the finish with #918, Alex Azar. I caught him in the later laps of the race, and we had some back of forth. I was going to try and make a last lap pass on him in either turn 9 or 11, but than decided unless it was clearly open I was not going to force it. I wanted to recover what I could from this weekend and not destroy my bike and body for only one more point.
Sunday's results:
600 Superbike: 25th out of 39
750 Superbike: 26th out of 34
Formula 1: 19th out of 26
All and all it was not a good race weekend for me, but I did manage to not wreck (on-course anyways) and was able to pull home some points. Ultimately, I am disappointed in myself, I had not lived up to my expectations nor my normal abilities. Hopefully next round will come together a little better for me; if not, I have no one to blame but myself.
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| Hard on the brakes going into turn 9. Look at the compression on the front suspension!!! |
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