My alarm went off at exactly 6 a.m., but the speed and agility with which my hand bolted out and silenced it would have been a dead giveaway that I was already awake, staring at it and willing it to ring and indicate that it was finally time. Time to finally do the one thing that had motivated me to get up every morning for the past two months, drudging through my summer school classes and dealing with an overly hot apartment that had no air conditioning. The one thing that had me feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl and had me feeling equally as flirtatious. It was time for my first track day at ThunderHill, and I was fucking ready. I got up and ate a quick breakfast, hopped in the shower, waited for my riding buddy to get his rear in gear (this being his third trackday I think he was amused at my frustration at how slowly he was moving) and around 6:45 we left our hotel and made our way to the track.
We arrived at the track right at 7 as the gates were being opened, and luckily we had come the day before to drop our bikes off underneath the paddock, so we parked and headed right into the office to fill out some paperwork. Upon completing the paperwork, I headed out to the paddock to tape up my bike and make sure it was ready for inspection. At this point we hadn't even gone to the riders meeting but my heart was already beating at an insane pace: "I can't believe I'm finally about to ride on the track, I can't believe I'm finally about to ride on the track, I can't believe I'm finally about to ride on the track.... Lets fast forward a little bit though....
"C Group this is your five minute warning"
"Oh shit"
"C Group, Report to the Grid!"
"....Oh shit"
There is a Z2 instructor in front of me on her 250 (Go Lisa!), and my riding buddy and another 1st timer we had met were both behind me on their 250s as well. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, maybe some more instruction, some 1 on 1 reassurance that everything was going to be okay... instead one of the Z2 staff pointed at the row of people to my left, "Ok, you guys go!". My heart skipped a beat and at the same time it felt like a lightning bolt hit the tip of my penis (okay okay, crude Step Brothers reference, but I couldn't help it). The staff member looked at Lisa and I could see his mouth forming the words "You guys ready? Okay Go!"
THIS WAS IT!
Time slowed to a crawl, the process of clicking my bike into first and slowly letting off the clutch took a whole 5 hours, and then as abruptly as it slowed it shot back up to real time, and I was there, I was in it, I was doing it. We followed Lisa around the track several times for our first session, taking turns being the one to follow her directly. I was really hesitant to scoot my rear remotely off the bike during the first session, but after I began to grind my footpegs down after every turn I decided it was best that I start utilizing some of the body positioning that I had so relentlessly practiced and researched in the weeks leading up to the weekend.
I had a great time during the first session, and it was an amazing way to learn the proper line to take for each turn. I head back into the office for the second classroom session with the rider school, and got some seriously good information on reference points, especially for turns 5 and 9. Learning how to focus my gaze on the light pole for turn 5 allowed me to get some serious lean angle once I headed off the cyclone and started turn 6:
and learning how to focus on the water tank on turn 9 definitely helped me build confidence in coming down that turn. I'm not sure what it was about turn 3, but I couldn't get myself to look through the turn correctly during the first session. A quick chat with one of the instructors in the hotpits helped find a quick solution to that problem, though:
As the second session was coming to a close, though, is when disaster struck. I was coming up onto turn 14 and I was really trying to work on making a late apex in order to set myself up correctly for turn 15, and as I located my turn in point I began to set my body positioning up to dip in.
4..
3..
2..
1...."Oh shit, I'm going to go wide. Its okay, gently apply breaks, you can do this, just be gentle, don't squeeze, a little more breaks, keep looking where you want to go, you're almost out of the turn, a little more, a little mo---
Lowside. Embarrassment. Self Loathing. 4 fractured ribs, a concussion, and a serious life lesson. The next hour was a very emotional one for me, I don't think I've ever felt as disappointed and upset at myself then I did then, riding in the back of an ambulance out of the track and towards Glenn Medical Center. Tears streaming down my face, but not because of the pain, and my hands balled so tightly into fists that my nails threatened to pierce flesh. They flew me (yup, helicopter ride, which in retrospect was pretty badass...) to Davis Medical Center in Sacramento, where I spent the next 24 hours in Trauma until they decided I was in okay shape to leave the hospital and travel home; luckily for me my father was in Sac-Town for business and was able to pick me up. I spent the next several days in quiet contemplation of what had occurred, of what it meant, of how I would learn from the lesson that is folded within every mistake. Right now, every breath provokes a sharp pain from my ribs, but it is a small lesson to pay and things could have gone much, much worse. For now, I focus on my recovery, but I also wait patiently for the next time I can get myself out there on the track, to experience the thrill of man and machine working in perfect harmony, to be part of something greater than any individual. I refuse to be beaten, I refuse to give up, I refuse to cease my pursuit of excellence in this sport, and just as these wounds will improve over time, so will my skill.
I did not mean for this to be a crash analysis thread and I'd appreciate you bite back any negative comments you may have (though I realize this is an internet forum...), but should you have any advice or comments regarding the crash itself, I encourage you to send me a private message so we can discuss it further; I am always willing to learn from anyone willing to teach.
We arrived at the track right at 7 as the gates were being opened, and luckily we had come the day before to drop our bikes off underneath the paddock, so we parked and headed right into the office to fill out some paperwork. Upon completing the paperwork, I headed out to the paddock to tape up my bike and make sure it was ready for inspection. At this point we hadn't even gone to the riders meeting but my heart was already beating at an insane pace: "I can't believe I'm finally about to ride on the track, I can't believe I'm finally about to ride on the track, I can't believe I'm finally about to ride on the track.... Lets fast forward a little bit though....
"C Group this is your five minute warning"
"Oh shit"
"C Group, Report to the Grid!"
"....Oh shit"
There is a Z2 instructor in front of me on her 250 (Go Lisa!), and my riding buddy and another 1st timer we had met were both behind me on their 250s as well. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, maybe some more instruction, some 1 on 1 reassurance that everything was going to be okay... instead one of the Z2 staff pointed at the row of people to my left, "Ok, you guys go!". My heart skipped a beat and at the same time it felt like a lightning bolt hit the tip of my penis (okay okay, crude Step Brothers reference, but I couldn't help it). The staff member looked at Lisa and I could see his mouth forming the words "You guys ready? Okay Go!"
THIS WAS IT!
Time slowed to a crawl, the process of clicking my bike into first and slowly letting off the clutch took a whole 5 hours, and then as abruptly as it slowed it shot back up to real time, and I was there, I was in it, I was doing it. We followed Lisa around the track several times for our first session, taking turns being the one to follow her directly. I was really hesitant to scoot my rear remotely off the bike during the first session, but after I began to grind my footpegs down after every turn I decided it was best that I start utilizing some of the body positioning that I had so relentlessly practiced and researched in the weeks leading up to the weekend.
I had a great time during the first session, and it was an amazing way to learn the proper line to take for each turn. I head back into the office for the second classroom session with the rider school, and got some seriously good information on reference points, especially for turns 5 and 9. Learning how to focus my gaze on the light pole for turn 5 allowed me to get some serious lean angle once I headed off the cyclone and started turn 6:
and learning how to focus on the water tank on turn 9 definitely helped me build confidence in coming down that turn. I'm not sure what it was about turn 3, but I couldn't get myself to look through the turn correctly during the first session. A quick chat with one of the instructors in the hotpits helped find a quick solution to that problem, though:
As the second session was coming to a close, though, is when disaster struck. I was coming up onto turn 14 and I was really trying to work on making a late apex in order to set myself up correctly for turn 15, and as I located my turn in point I began to set my body positioning up to dip in.
4..
3..
2..
1...."Oh shit, I'm going to go wide. Its okay, gently apply breaks, you can do this, just be gentle, don't squeeze, a little more breaks, keep looking where you want to go, you're almost out of the turn, a little more, a little mo---
Lowside. Embarrassment. Self Loathing. 4 fractured ribs, a concussion, and a serious life lesson. The next hour was a very emotional one for me, I don't think I've ever felt as disappointed and upset at myself then I did then, riding in the back of an ambulance out of the track and towards Glenn Medical Center. Tears streaming down my face, but not because of the pain, and my hands balled so tightly into fists that my nails threatened to pierce flesh. They flew me (yup, helicopter ride, which in retrospect was pretty badass...) to Davis Medical Center in Sacramento, where I spent the next 24 hours in Trauma until they decided I was in okay shape to leave the hospital and travel home; luckily for me my father was in Sac-Town for business and was able to pick me up. I spent the next several days in quiet contemplation of what had occurred, of what it meant, of how I would learn from the lesson that is folded within every mistake. Right now, every breath provokes a sharp pain from my ribs, but it is a small lesson to pay and things could have gone much, much worse. For now, I focus on my recovery, but I also wait patiently for the next time I can get myself out there on the track, to experience the thrill of man and machine working in perfect harmony, to be part of something greater than any individual. I refuse to be beaten, I refuse to give up, I refuse to cease my pursuit of excellence in this sport, and just as these wounds will improve over time, so will my skill.
I did not mean for this to be a crash analysis thread and I'd appreciate you bite back any negative comments you may have (though I realize this is an internet forum...), but should you have any advice or comments regarding the crash itself, I encourage you to send me a private message so we can discuss it further; I am always willing to learn from anyone willing to teach.
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She gave me a helpful tip about turn 3; off camber, and the wider out you go, the more off camber it gets.
