treating 7 weeks as a moment in time

Wow, 7 weeks has passed since my last brain dump. Alot has happened. So much so that I don't know where to begin. The preparations for the baby have encroached my serious play time. 3 trips to Babies'R'Us leaves me wondering how the hell my folks were able to raise me without registries, nook brushes, breast pump liners, and jogging strollers. It is just another example of the effort we will expend in the hopes of some long term convenience. (Microsoft has been manipulating modern society for over 10 years with the same veiled approach.) My soccer exploits have been pheripheral to my racing. Yet, I can't help but feel some satisfaction in my play and that of the team. Despite being mentally and sometimes physically exhausted for the sunday matches, I've been able to summon energy from god knows where. A glimpse of what's to come, a preparation of sorts for parenthood. Transistioning my brain waves out of the cockpit an onto the pitch has been challenging, but a skill I'm just beginning to hone. No longer am I driving to the match thinking about the previous evenings typical happenstance. I am beginning to see to some real smart play from my teammates, a direct result of patience, movement, communication and wise decision making. Attributes in some way I hope is a result of my efforts on the Thursday kick-arounds. I am in no means taking credit for that, because I feed on it more than anybody else. It's starting to wake up processes that have been dead since college. Despite the influx of recreational activities (organized play), my work landscape is beginning to change. There are opportunities afoot, but I haven't been able to fully grasp the levity of my pending choices, something I must do soon. The resounding theme, atleast those that have inhabited my brain, has been the impending retirement of my racing activities. I would love to encapsulate my thoughts/emotions in this blog, but I believe that it's much too large an animal to bring down with a pellet gun. For posterity sake, let's just say that my last 3 outings were enjoyable which allowed me to really take in the inputs, the interactions, seat-of-the-pants feeling. What racers do is really amazing, and I am glad (lucky) to count myself as one of the brethren. In some small way I can see through their eyes, because I've been there. Words can never really describe it, but someday, I want to attempt it, even if feebly.

rebound

I know what he's thinking, 'That does not make sense, if Chewbacca is a wookie, you must acquit.' Puzzled almost dumbfounded, he's searching. 'I've been using these shocks on sprint cars, running 30-40 lbs. of nitrogen, now you want me to take it completely out?! What about the rebound percentages? Damn, it's been 20 races and we can't dial it in, what the hell, this is a last resort.' I spent 10 minutes talking to my trusted and seasoned crew chief. Despite his great successes providing ace set-ups for sprint car jockeys, he's utterly failed trying to get even a base line set-up to work in my rocket. He conceded. The car stuck in warm-ups, it didn't matter high-low, we were fast and for the first time in a long time, my confidence started to rebound. I drew a pole start for the heat race, I needed to finish 5th or better to transfer into the main. We communicated like we always do, I'm moving my hands gesturing the attitude of the car, where I'm burping the throttle, how much left v. right side transfer. He's taking it all in, nodding, pondering and puts a set-up in the car. On the start, the outside pole sitter jumps the start leaving me in tow, blocking my entry point getting into turn 1. Damn. I've gotta ease it, the tracks much drier than I anticipated and I don't wanna loop it infront of the pack trying to pinch the car down. Trailways master, Shawn Seifert gets inside me and moves me up, Steve Buckwalter and Heath Henley blast by. I get into 3 and man this things loose, but still drivable, I gotta take it to the edge. Kendall and Holtgraver get by. Shit, now I gotta get up on the wheel and man-handle this thing. Caution is out for a spinning Kendall. Time to regroup, get the wing back, lower the panhard bar and untie that left rear shock. All cockpit adjustments I can make while racing. Green flag, 3 laps to go, great restart, I can get Scott Geasey for a transfer, just gotta time it just right. I've finally got a rhythm, Geasey's in my sights, and Holtgraver blows turn 3 and pushes like a plow, Geasey has to pull his car low but I'm coming like a freight train. At the starters stand on the front stretch I just edge him for 4th place. The scorers didn't see it that way. I earned a 5th place and a transfer into that recently elusive main event. 14 guys will go home tonight not making the show, thankfully I'm not one of them. It's strategy time, I'm starting 18th, and the tracks' the question mark. Radiation cooling is sucking moisture up from below the track surface, but 24 hungry machines will blast that off in 5 laps of racing. I need to drop 2 inches of stagger to get to where I want, I've got 1 or 3" available at the trailer. No; starting that deep in the field doesn't warrant a new tire. We decide to drop 1" of stagger and tighten up the chassis by adding RR weight by increasing the tilt. Adding rake will increase the front to rear weight transfer. But not too much or I won't be able to steer. Finally, we're prestaging. The pace truck is leading the field around, I'm a few feet behind Dwayne Gutshall, Trailways newest dry-slick artist. Guys up front are getting anxious, Chad Hough leads em into turn three and dust starts flying, rocks are getting kicked up and bouncing off my helmet, its go time and I mash the loud pedal. After the pathetic spring I've had, I'm just looking to survive and get 20 laps under my belt. Upshift into 3rd by the flagstand and drive it into turn 1, she's tight, but the front end stays pointed down, it won't be long and this beast will be close to balanced. On the backstretch Cody Darrah is slicing thru traffic, down off the bottom of 2 straight to the outside to get a sweeping entry into 3. Cars are bouncing off each other, there's just no room. I'm only at 3/4 throttle. Its so dusty if someone gets squirrelly, I'll be in his lap before I know it. I reach to slap my visor down all the way. The drastic increase in humidity over the last hour had fogged my visor and spectacles, I'm tired of eating dust. Guys are settling down and getting strung out. 5 laps into the event I'm back on a mission to pass Geasey. The car is very drivable now and I start clipping off smooth laps. Lap 7 is a golden one as I reel in Geasey closing a 30 car gap, I'm on his tail when somebody goes for a loop right in front of me, a jink of the wheel right while on the hammer gets me to the outside of the spinner and in the clear. Whew, its restart time and I know it's going to loosen up, I already know that the right rear tire is on its downward trend of traction. More wing, panhard and shock to get it to transfer even harder to that corner. The restart gets strung out and we are green again, single file past the restart cone and into turn 1. In 1 lap I'm all over Geasey but he's got the preferred line. I can run him over or settle in and wait for a mistake. He didn't mess up, he would drive it in hard and scrub speed in the middle while I would walk it in and be turned and on the gas at the apex. Since there's only one groove with traction and he's in it, I'm screwed. Lap after lap tick by. White flag is displayed, one more chance, I tightened right up on his bumper, but no bobble would come. A 21st place finish and my arms are trembling. Not bad for taking a $1,200 set of shocks and reducing them to normal oil filled shocks. So much for rebound.

cross-roads

Simmering below the conscious, choices, options and an unsettling feeling of dread. Nothing life altering, yet a weight, a feeling of sand being poured into a burlap bag, placed evenly across my shoulders. I have no idea how big or full the bag is. I haven't employed a dual mirror system to check. For that takes reflection, a pleasure I do not have the luxury to devote time to. Tick, tick, you hear it? A deadline approaches, or is it two? I can store large complex decisions, placating them until the proper moment of action, deflecting ripples of inputs that would cause an early maturation of the process. Yet, every so often, a choice is required that can threaten the very existence of the decision, sending it cascading into any number of different directions.

Trailways announced a Sunday rain-date this weekend. Most assuredly, they will use it and I will be forced to chose between that which is fleeting and steadfast. Due to spiraling costs, I'm in the twilight of racing career, I want to race every moment of my being. The reality is that TWs will be the only game in town and will welcome 50+ entrants for 24 positions. I will start upfront in my heat race. A tacky surface should tip the balance in my favor to qualify. Yet without a different set of shocks, my gas Penske's will probably fail me again. Testing my confidence. Failure to just appear places me last the next time I return to the speed palace. A heavy penalty, one which makes the challenge (and lure) that much greater. In the past to avoid a confrontation of desires, I typically and automatically favored a dust filled event capped off by the ever loathsome 2 AM car wash. Yet, this time I'm perplexed. A 3pm soccer game, unimpeded by the weather, awaits. My commitment to the pitch is renewed. Not for the love of the game, but for the camaraderie that exists. Over the last 4 months, a growing compassion, not felt since my days leading my BU hockey mates, is clouding my typical emotions and actions. After college, soccer was never same to me. The game became merely a vehicle for exercise. Soccer can always be there, a sport that I can play regularity with success. It just doesn't feel right to abandon the people that I've grown to respect and care for.

Blasting into a corner with your hair on fire, feeling that car strain under the g-forces, within inches of your competitors... the feeling will never escape me, but then neither will the satisfaction of giving your talents and companionship to others all for the pursuit of common goals. Turn left or right. I guess we'll see.

surprise, surprise

This weekend will always be defined as the emergence of "uncle dougy". I've known Doug personally since 1995. From 1998 though 2000, I spent many an eve twisting wrenches on his ARDC midgets. He's one of the most instinctive and talented race car drivers I've ever met. His social skills are endearing at best. A self proclaimed hillbilly, he's always had a single focus: racing, until Friday. I picked up a set of slightly used digital scales for his expanding traveling race series (the 600 Modifieds) and made plans to deliver them. I was reluctant to foot the gas bill to haul my fume guzzling beast of a pick-up truck to the remote and sleepy area of Kunkletown (nestled in the Poconos) Despite the inconvenience, I gained some quite time during the ride to reflect, and organize the mix of data and emotions that pile up over time. What was waiting for me was a surprise I was somewhat unprepared. Doug had purchased a crib, crib mattress, bed-in-a-bag set and vibrating toddler rocker. I was equally shocked when he did it himself, not charging his mother for that task as I would have guessed. I know he appreciates my work, my guidance and my friendship, this just happened to be the first time he really expressed it. Shim now has an Uncle Dougy.

payback

Finally, the retribution for my Leafs loss to the Flyers on that ill-fated trip to Air Canada Centre(January 19th, 2003 to be exact). Not that I really wanted a Leafs win, I did hope for Flyers success to complete the X-mas gift to Laurie. We had seats suitable for royalty. The Wachovia Center was electric. I have a new profound appreciation for the fans from the city of brotherly love, there was a spell when they abused the priviledge to be a fan by seeming disinterested in the game.... that has evaporated. I honestly felt a chill when the Flyers fans showed resounding support during a time-out called by Hitch with 30 seconds to go, their team within 1 goal. A solid 3-2 win in regulation, it renews my spirit as a Maple Leaf fan despite their paultry season.

roller coaster emotions

Zen Garden. A quite place of respite that Laurie and I enjoy. We were not disappointed friday eve. This weekend was a team no-show at Trailways, several factors such as my head wrench (bro) convinced me that no-one was going to enjoy freezing their ass off at the races (though he was conveniently slamming to Korn-Mudvayne in Baltimore), Mr. Les Still predicted a cold overcast and raw day, and my funked up back wasn't going to withstand the grunt work that comes with an adventure with my rocket. Lo and behold sun dominated the day in Hanover. Photos form the day's event seemed to exude a warmth almost inviting glow. Damn. My solace was an enjoyable shopping gaunt with Laurie. Then a sunday excursion to Erdenheim and Landsdale. First with friends, then family. Everytime I watch Monsters, Inc., I always get a new perspective, this time from a 5 year old. The day was a wide breadth of generations, the 5 year being the youngest and the 84 year old grandmas we visited later that evening. Both Laurie's grandmas were in attendance at Outback Steakhouse. What a hoot. Virginia is a pistol, I can tell she doesn't take herself too seriously (although the wine is a great assistant). Isabella is quite the opposite, proud and stoic, which is impressive since she still maintains her tall stature of 6'. Just once I wish should tell me what's really going on inside... Typical of my relationship with racing, I rode the roller coaster once again.

the gain of pain

There are times when I wonder, it this all worth it? ...playing soccer late at night. Getting beat on by hacks that lost a step 5 years ago, loses it's appeal after a few games. I've got 3 indoor sessions under my belt and the body is fighting it. My most recent set-back is a few ribs that jumped out of place, an injury exacerbated last night by a hip check some guy thru on me 3 weeks ago. I've always, no matter what sport, have come back to a resounding yes - it is worth it. ES went undefeated this session. A testament to Jeff Cothren and his ability to manage a team, and to each of our core players' mentality to play a team game and maintain composure throughout. The satisfaction of this accomplishment will drive me to continue... so goes my impetus.

Introduction

Oftentimes I've ponder on random thoughts that pervade my conscious. Now, through the beauty of the internet, should the moment strike me, I have an outlet. Prepare for the inner workings of a man who struggles to achieve everything and nothing, the balance of life, the experience of it.