Hitting the finish line jump as the checkered flag is flying in the air is one of the best feelings in the world. A race, is to compete against others to see who can finish the fastest. Racing is a one man sport that is followed by individuals. Racing can also be defined as “to move, or progress swiftly, or at full speed” says Dictionary.com. As most of our lives race by, I will share what racing means to me.

    Racing dirt bikes has been in my blood ever since I was a young kid riding my 50cc dirt bike around the yard. A purchased dirt bike was my parents’ first mistake. Ever since I started competing in the greatest sport called riding, I haven't quit. When I first started it wasn't easy;  I wasn't as good as the other racers, and it killed me to realize that. I knew I had to ride more  in order to get better , so that's what I did. I rode my dirt bike every day after school until dark. My parents dragged me off the seat to eat supper. My Dad spent countless hours working on my bike, and filling my tank up.  He was making sure I followed my dreams, and that was to race.

    Upgrading from a 50cc bike to an 85cc bike was a big difference. The higher the cc; the bigger the motor is. When I was on 85cc bikes, the competition was strong, I was struggling to keep up with the other kids and I didn't know if I wanted to continue racing. The countless crashes, concussions, and the pain; I didn't know if it was worth it. The other racers skills pushed me to do the best I can, if there wasn't competition it would not be called racing. My Dad was supportive of me in my choice to continue to ride or quit. I choose to step up to a 250cc bike and carry on racing.  Racing is not about taking it easy. Uncompetitive people don't race. “Going slow is for old people,” as my father would tell me. My life felt like I was living in the fast lane. When I started to ride the new bike, things were flowing. My speed was increasing dramatically. It was the summer of 2015 when racing became an every weekend event for my family. I started to get fast, very fast. I was earning top three in my class. I was reminded of the quote by Bobby Unser, ( “Nobody remembers who finished second but the guy who finished second.” ). That quote was a huge motivator for me. I wanted to be that kid who earns first. I developed a drive and love for racing. I went out of the 2015 race season feeling good about the 2016 race season.

    The winter before the 2016 race season was drawn out and dreadful, All I wanted to do was to get on my dirt bike and race. I picked up a couple sponsorships for the upcoming race season to help me on the costs. I was mentally and physically preparing myself. I spent hours grinding the weights in the weight room, to get in shape so I could be the best.

At last, I was out burning laps at the local motocross track. I needed some seat time before my  first race. My goal of the race season was to make it to Loretta Lynn's, which has been known as having the fastest amature racers in the whole United States. Loretta’s is where  amateur racers prove to the sponsors they have what it takes to race with the big dogs. I needed to qualify in two different regional races. The first couple races of the season went good. I earned a handful of first place finishes and felt comfortable on the bike. The Loretta Lynn's regional was the next race. I needed to do good in this race to advance to the next regional race.

The regional was held in Little Falls, MN a track that I am familiar with. As the weekend of racing came close I knew what I had to do. It was no longer a race, it was a task that I had to accomplish. Arriving at the track early Friday morning had my adrenaline racing just thinking about the pressure. Practice took place before the races, and I wanted to get all the jumps perfected before the races started. I went out for my first practice lap and I was feeling comfortable, but tight. The dirt was brown fluff with so many deep lines. Second practice lap came and I went for the biggest jump on the track, around 70 feet.

The noise of the rev limiter ringing in my ear as I case the jump, BANG!

I woke up in the medical ranger as the paramedics asked me a few questions I don't recall. The pain felt like needles stabbing into my chest as I took a short breath in. The paramedics told me that we needed to go to the hospital. They said I could barely walk or breathe. As I sat in the hospital, the news of not racing the regional crushed me. My mind worried about the rest of the season. I crashed pretty bad, breaking 4 ribs, a major concussion, bruised right lung, and separated shoulder. I was pretty lucky it wasn't worse. The pain I felt when I crashed at my younger age was nothing compared to the pain I was feeling then, and it was all because of racing. The season ended.

Racing is still in my blood and will always be. I have realized that I have a future in being an Airplane pilot. I am ready to move onto bigger things in life. I still ride dirt bikes, but I am not as serious as I was before the crash. Racing is addicting, the adrenaline rush every time you hit a jump, or the relief of winning a race, and knowing you deserved the win. The crowd of people watching you as you hit the finish line jump, remembering the kid who got first. It's all too good to forget. I love to race, but as my life continues, I need to take different paths. I can't afford to live life on the edge every weekend. My racing career legitimately raced by way too quickly, I didn't accomplish the task I set for myself, which will bug me until I accomplish it. I have learned so much from racing. The support I have received from family and friends has been incredible. The past 10 years of my life, I do not regret my decision racing dirt bike one bit. I have love for racing and I think it comes from my competitive side. If I wasn't competitive I wouldn't have the success I did racing dirt bikes. The word “race” haunts me everyday of my life; once it's in your blood it won't come out.
Call it a break, not a retirement.