When I was younger, and school
finally let out for the summer, I started counting down the days until the
annual motocross races at the Last Chance Raceway off York Road. Between the summer sun beating
down on the back of your neck, the feel of loose dirt squishing underneath your
feet, the sound of two-stroke engines revving all around and the heavenly aroma
of burgers cooking on the grill, it was one of my favorite parts of summer. And
the cherry on top was getting to watch my dad race a few of those years.
There was one race in particular
that has always stood out in my mind. I remember it being blazing hot out as I
stood behind the fence by the race start watching all of the riders line their
bikes up. My eyes scanned the lineup for my dad’s yellow Suzuki with the number
12 emblazoned on the side. The race start is what I remember the most. Al of the riders had to start by straddling
their front fender. When the shot rang out, they had to
run around and jump on their bike, pump the kick start, throw them into gear
and ride like hell. When the shot at this rang out for this race to start my
dad moved faster than I’d ever seen him. He was the first one to pull away from
the start, and was so far ahead of everyone else that people must’ve thought he’d
jumped the gun. Meanwhile, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, “That’s my
dad! That’s my dad!”
It was moments like that one that
always left me a little envious and desirous to know what it would be like to
race. This past Saturday, I finally had the chance to experience exactly that. My
dad, boyfriend, and I all signed up for the Crazy Ben XC race out in Clancy. I
was nervous for the challenges it would bring, but excited to carry on the
Middlestead race legacy.
The sun was high in a pale blue
sky that day. It was a comfortable 65 degrees out with just a breath of wind
rolling over the hills. When 12:15 p.m. rolled around, the three of us wheeled
our bikes up to the start line. The men would start first, followed by the women
a few minutes later. All I remember about the start was trying to control my
anxious breath from inside my helmet and focusing on the man up in front who
would signal when to go. We did a dead engine start, which I’d never done
before. But when the man threw his arm down, I started my engine, clicked it
into first gear, and revved my engine a bit as I let out the clutch. It seemed
like a million steps but I did it in one fluid motion. After popping a small
wheelie, I was off and riding.
The goal was to do as many laps
around the course in 90 minutes as you could. I quickly lost track of time
though and didn’t count my laps. All I could do was focus on the trail in front
of me and stay determined to finish no matter what. I crashed four times and
was constantly dodging boulders and trees and slippery mud ruts. It was exhausting
and nerve wracking. But it never once crossed my mind to pull out and quit. I
needed to prove myself.....to my dad....and to my own self.
With every stop at the lap
checkpoint, I felt a little more confident and smiled a little bigger behind my
helmet. I was doing it....I was racing in my first race....and I was going to
finish. When I finally came around the corner and saw the checkered flag, I
breathed a sigh of relief and felt my heart beat surge. I had really done it! The
race had felt hours long, but once it was over, it seemed like it had ended all
too suddenly. I finished 5th out of six women riders. I didn’t bring
a trophy home that day, but I had finished. Even more importantly, I had had
the courage to try in the first place.
If someone had told me years ago
that I would someday play a season of hockey, race in a cross country motocross
race, and bike 140 miles, I would’ve told them they were crazy. Yet, in the
past few years I have done every one of those things. I go to sleep every night
knowing that I’m only starting the rev the engine of my life and there is much
I will go on to accomplish still. As much as I shock people around me by the
things I do, it’s not nearly as much as I shock myself. But I believe that if
you aren’t pushing yourself beyond yourself, you aren’t really living. You aren’t
giving life your best. It’s the things you don’t think you are capable of
trying that you should be trying to do. See, the more things I’ve accomplished
in life that I would’ve thought impossible years earlier, the more courage and
strength I develop. And the next time an obstacle is dropped down in front of
me, I just stand smiling at it because I know that I will take it on and
overcome it.
I’m sure my dad having an only
child, and a girl to boot, made him think at one time about all the things he
would never be able to teach her. Who would he be able to pass along his passions
for hockey and motocross to? But I have spent the past 26 years, and especially
the last year, showing him that I am far more than just a girl. I think I’ve
shown him that I have a lot more of his spirit in me than he ever gave me
credit for. And that’s one of my major goals in life: to live life so fully
that I am constantly shocking the world around me....even those people who I am
closest to. Just when people think they know me and how far I can go, I come up
throwing another punch. To do anything less is simply an insult to the
beautiful life God has blessed me with.
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