Well, I've been racing competitively for 7 years now. I've raced mountain bikes, bmx, street bikes, supermoto, flat track, motocross, enduro, cross country, and anything else I could hit with two wheels. I've managed to win Two Championships in separate disciplines, travel all over the country, and see some amazing places. Not to mention the amazing sensations I've been allowed to feel. Backing it in sideways at 90 mph when you're 1500 miles from home at a national supermoto, laying it all on the line for the kind of thrills a drug will never be able to replicate. Churning through 75 miles of rough trails and tight woods, struggling to survive until you come tumbling into the finish line at the end of an enduro you weren't meant to finish. Travelling with your best friends all over the place, rampaging about and racing every square inch of a course and squeezing the maximum amount of fun out of a weekend. Sitting at the start of a section with a busted wheel and blown out front tire, wrestling your buddy until you finally kick him and his bike to the ground, just to be jousted off the back of the bike and have said buddy roost you in the face while you're still struggling to breathe.
I've felt the entire gamut of emotions, pain, ecstasy, and misery. I've entered a flat track race after dispatching a 12 pack and then some, on a bike equipped with full race slicks and the intention of doing well. All balls that night, no brain left when all eyes are on you and the pack you're battling, especially with a blood alcohol content that would get you thrown in jail on any public roadway. Somehow that blur of smiles, fumes, adrenaline, and concerned looks led to a top 5 finish and one helluva race. I've buried my face into the ground while looking a good friend in the eyes as we crossed paths midair at the end of a rhythm section of jumps. Eye to eye, straight into the ground. Tasting dirt, pain, and true friendship all in one gritty mouthful of dust and blood.
I've piled into cars in the middle of the night for cross-country drives just to get the thrill of riding over my head beside my friends. College itself was what I did when my posse didn't have something more appealing for me to do. I've been kicked out of class for bleeding too much, walked to the nurse's office because my concussion was so bad I was operating solely on autopilot, not even coherent of where I was (still made the Dean's List at one of the top business schools in the nation!) I've faxed three page medical reports to teachers to get excused absences, and taken tests early to go racing with my friends. My best friends then, and to this day, all came from the two-wheeled world. I've seen all of us hit the highest highs and lowest lows, where the only consistent aspect of our lives was our small platoon of misfits that stood together through everything life could throw at us.
On the same token, I've seen friends die in ditches. I've been there when it came time to bury my fellow thrillseekers at an age far too young to be paying prices that high. I've been in hospital rooms when friends learned they'd be lucky to walk again. I've felt my own body give and crumble multiple times. I've felt bones shatter, limbs twist, ligaments tear apart, and I've lost precious memories to head impacts. Seven years of racing, preceded by several reckless years of growing and trying to locate my personal limits. 35 broken bones, 13 concussions, 5 major operations, and number 6 going on the calendar next week. Some people only see the damage, I see a lot of life crammed in to my 27 years on God's green earth. I see a circle of friends so deep and so true that I'll never be alone. I see triumphs, I see pitfalls followed by a tenacity to recover that cannot be described. I've seen a friend go from near death and paralyzed in the dirt to running in only a matter of months. I've seen life beat my people into the ground, only to prove the human resolve that we all desire to have, but never want to be forced to dig into.
It's been a glorious chapter, and it is by no means over yet, but it's evolving, ever-changing, and growing into something else. Families are growing, my entire circle is healing from something we've done, and the common denominator we all shared before is becoming increasingly less important than the friendships we've built in the pursuit of fun. Welcome to the new age, an era of recovery followed by a would be void filled with all sorts of other joys and vices. A deafening roar of gratitude to the racing community, to all my RP boys a toast of prosperity and positive vibes, to my wife an enormous thank you for picking up the pieces, and to all those that I've been lucky enough to share some times with. My life will be forever enriched by each of you, and you'll see me again soon! Whether it be behind the lens of a a camera, on the trail, or opposite a cold glass, I'm as rejuvenated as I've been in a long time, and I'm even more hungry for a life worth living. Here's to an era of self destruction, and whatever the next chapter may bring, my friends. Just know this, I'm in the business of making memories, and you're all characters in my ongoing story line. I have big plans, big dreams, and the support to do anything. Here's to life- live it to the max. Love much, laugh hard, and lift each other up!
VITA BREVIS.
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