continued from Chronicles: the death of a goal (Part 10)
Closing thoughts:
As my consummate teammate, Laurie has lived the same goal and felt the same highs and disappointments that racing has dished out. This trophy is an accomplishment for all of those that invested their time and concern for my dreams. Yet, this combination of plastic and marble is also very personal. It's the culmination of endless nights in the shop, at the racetrack and carwash. It's the countless sacrifices to live a life less traveled but more diverse. It's the memories of my father and uncle's racing accolades and the addition of mine to the family's tradition. I have a sense of closure to an elusive goal that had haunted me ever since I can remember. My maturation largely occurred in several small race garages throughout my adolescence. All the while it fostered a burning desire to complete and to win. However, winning is addictive. The balance to closure. As I write this I wonder why it takes a superficial trophy to bring this to light. Why should I even need a trophy to honor the memories. Do the finishing positions really mean anything? Had I not achieved a victory, would it have tainted my experiences? In hindsight I think not, yet it took a win to expose that truth.
This weekend brought perspective to my life. Sitting on the trailer Saturday night, spooked from a head injury, there was only one thing I desired, a soft kiss from my wife. I rethought the sanity in placing my well being on the line for the seductive fix of adrenaline. My contention must be focused on other, less damaging hobbies. Until I get that next phone call offering an open seat.
Closing thoughts:
As my consummate teammate, Laurie has lived the same goal and felt the same highs and disappointments that racing has dished out. This trophy is an accomplishment for all of those that invested their time and concern for my dreams. Yet, this combination of plastic and marble is also very personal. It's the culmination of endless nights in the shop, at the racetrack and carwash. It's the countless sacrifices to live a life less traveled but more diverse. It's the memories of my father and uncle's racing accolades and the addition of mine to the family's tradition. I have a sense of closure to an elusive goal that had haunted me ever since I can remember. My maturation largely occurred in several small race garages throughout my adolescence. All the while it fostered a burning desire to complete and to win. However, winning is addictive. The balance to closure. As I write this I wonder why it takes a superficial trophy to bring this to light. Why should I even need a trophy to honor the memories. Do the finishing positions really mean anything? Had I not achieved a victory, would it have tainted my experiences? In hindsight I think not, yet it took a win to expose that truth.
This weekend brought perspective to my life. Sitting on the trailer Saturday night, spooked from a head injury, there was only one thing I desired, a soft kiss from my wife. I rethought the sanity in placing my well being on the line for the seductive fix of adrenaline. My contention must be focused on other, less damaging hobbies. Until I get that next phone call offering an open seat.
Packing up the beat-up truck and roughing it in the pickup cab connected me with a person that has been pampered from a support network, central air, an expansive wardrobe, queen size mattress, and a plethora of creature comforts. I have been conditioned to seek out comfort whether it lies in the familiar face or the items that surround our modern living. This weekend was a great escape from the familiar. Typically, I have no problem adjusting to less than desirable conditions. This adventure reaffirmed my ability to be independent, yet all the while reminding me of my self imposed dependence on that which I love.
2 comments:
Gary,
This is great stuff. The descriptions of the racing seen place you there - I've never been to a race track, yet can sense the atmosphere through your descriptions. Especially interesting and powerful are those brief moments when you allow your emotions to breathe, to come up to the surface and look around a bit.
That you won your last race - I can think of nothing more fitting. I know that your child, who I assume is now in the world with us, will be an eager recipient of the Suchy racing tradition.
Best to you, my friend.
Jeff,
Thanks for the kind words. Writing that piece actually helped me move past my malaise over my departure from racing. It's like a drug and the withdrawal can be hard (as so I've found out). Hitting the submit button on this last installment enveloped me with a great sense of relief.
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