Reflecting back on my 2007 season I feel good about how I developed this year. Initially I podiumed at Loudon on my first races of the season. And then I seemed to slow-down. I literally did I think. One has to go slow to go fast . They (the racing instructors and experienced guys) tell you this all the time. Its something that has absolutely no meaning until you figure out on your own that you can race the guy in front of you, or you can race the track beneath your wheels.

Racing the track means learning to consistently go fast around it. It means knowing how late you can brake, how soon you can get on the throttle, where you can save time turning in. In short, its developing your own line around the track and being able to repeat that so that your lap times are very close to each other from lap to lap. That kind of familiarity allows you to worry less about where you turn in or where you let off the gas and prepare to brake. Without that, there is this uncertainty that comes with high-speed when you're worrying about who might be passing you, or trying to catch up to the racer in front of you.

This year, I slowed down and realized that at 1:25 around Loudon I could actually relax. Last year a minute 25 around the track and my shoulders were up around my ears. The process is now braking a little later and gas on a little earlier, and the times should reduce further. But the best part of racing relaxed is that when the bike snaps back at you, and it really does feel like riding on a wild bronco at times, there is no iron grip on the bars. Instead the bike twitches and the rider gives none of the resistance that usually results in a crash. And this year, I had so few crashes. In fact, my last four race weekends were without one! Last year I crashed nearly every weekend at least once. I broke ribs last year! And I realize too, I broke my collarbone.

Personal accomplishments in 2007: I beat the heat at Barber racetrack in Birmingham, AL during that heat wave in August. 112 degrees in the shade and I did not heat-stroke (I have 5 times so far.) My Aprilia blew up in a race. Piston, power valves, cylinder, cylinder head! BOOM! I also, won 2nd place in the AMA Grand National Championships. That felt great because that race was a crash-fest. I almost ran over a guy's neck. My teammate Ofir had once of the worst crashes I ever saw someone walk away from. There were literally bikes strewn all over the track on my last lap which was red-flagged and stopped. I turned my fastest lap in that race. And I ended my season with that trophy up on the AMA podium. It felt good because that was the first race this year that I said I was going to try and win.

Finally, speed. Loudon is not a fast track. I have never been able to go faster than 115 mph there. When I went 136 mph at Jennings last December I was truly a bit scared. Much of the turning was in the 90 - 100 mph range. Mid-Ohio was even faster. When I calculate my gearing with a simple mathematical equation, my Aprilia was geared for 145mph at 12,500 in sixth. I was fully red-lined at the end of that straight and I had to brake and turn into a 90 degree turn. Sitting behind that windscreen for so long was amazing. Speed does not scare me at this point. I do keep my finger on the clutch in case the engine might seize. I don't relish the idea of being launched at that speed.

This was also the year of contact for me. I was surprised how much contact there is between racers and bikes as you move up the levels. There is though. Its incredible because before I experienced it I always thought that if you connect with another bike out there its an automatic crash. The first time I was in turn 9 heading towards turn 10 at Loudon. And this is a scary place to crash. Its a very high speed turn and I found young expert racer Brent Lyskawa literally leaning on me from the outside. As we flipped our bikes to the inside to get around the wall at turn 10 he accelerated and was gone. Later in the day I asked him if he trusted me and he said "Sure. Why?" I said because you were leaning on me in T9 today. He said, "I was?"

During the USGPRU race I was passed frequently by the best racers in the nation and not one went by without scraping. Its friendly when you trust the other racer. This is not pushing off or kicking. Although I did have a little elbow pushing at some point. And it culminated when I slammed into Ofir coming out turn 12 this year. It felt like the type of contact a running back makes when you glance off a tackler. That was a highlight to be sure as after my bike wobbled and then recovered I was running wide full out to Turn 1, shifting through the gears and looking behind me at Ofir giving him the thumbs up sign. That was cool. Its just a new part of racing for me. And it further increases the comfort level.

Also new this year was going too fast in turns, losing the front wheel, and pushing the bike back up with my knee. In fact, I had a lot of moments in which rather than "react", I corrected. Its all part I suppose of becoming an expert. I think slowing down is part of that process too. I took to mid-ohio with such comfort going faster and quicker than I have all year. Even during the crash-fest I was calm. Relaxed.

So what is this then? Its not something I do to relax. I can only describe it still as riding a hot razor blade over a ribbon of wax. That is what the traction feels like. When the bike hooks up its like the razor connected and sharp, but occasionally the razor's heat causes it to slide over the wax. At that point I just want a gentle hooking back up. Its not something I can will the bike to do. But as long as I don't react to the loss of traction the bike will want to continue along its projection, and the tires will either hook back up, or I can ride it off track hopefully into the infield. As a novice I would end up in the infield. As an amateur I found myself more and more frequently on the pavement sliding along with the bike. Now its just a matter of patience. I know when my tires are spent and I know when they still have grip.

Racing is also friends. Watching teammates develop past me this year and being happy for them. Ofir was so fast this year. But I confess, I loved beating him at Mid-Ohio. I loved setting him up for the pass in turn 12 in lap six of an eight lap race. But Ofir adjusted his line and it sent me towards the air fence. I pressed my bar down harder and the Aprilia turned in, front wheel lifting off the ground as I dropped off into what they call thunder alley racing to catch back up, determined to pass him there. That was the section Ofir was slower than me in. On the last lap, I cut through on his inside glancing to him as I passed. He missed his gear! The glance! Ofir was racing me at that moment and not the track. I felt him behind my neck through the next four turns. I spent some time chasing Ofir that weekend. But I finished ahead of him in every race. Hope he won't hate me for printing this! lol I can only imagine how good he feels when he passes me, because I am usually on the end of that.

Then there is simply the racers you see weekend week out, and the ones you see at the Nationals. Its a small family that covers a lot of square miles. At MId-Ohio I had Eddy Brunet helping me re-assemble my transmission. He was 2nd place in the points championship. You need an expert who knows the same transmission you have. So I thought Eddy. Nicest guy you could meet. Keeping up way past midnight before the big race of the season. of course I fed him paella. I fed a lot of wonderful people this year. I make paella every race weekend in a 32" pan. Its another reason I love racing. Its because I love cooking. Where else can you cook for 30 or 40 people?

But if I were to sum up why I race. Its Tim O'Connor. I do not race because of him. What I mean is he is the kind of racer who I wish I can become at 55. I only started a few years ago. He's been racing over 20 years. And he was at one time one of the fastest racers on any coast of this nation. On the weekend I was trying to film him at Loudon, he was simply too fast. He had not won a trophy in years. But that all changed that weekend. The shaky footage I got of him exiting Turn 12 Loudon, when slowed down reminds me of Tim on his TZ750 two-stroke in the early 1980s. But its Tim on his TZ250 now. Its the feeling of historical presence that racing gives you. I survived this race on this day and it was great playing on the edge of life and death and everything serious and everything playful. Every race is a memory of the feelings of mastery. Was there? Was it lucky? Was it scary or dangerous or fun? Did I hammer that turn perfectly or what? How about that start? How about nearly losing it or not recovering it well. The crash that really hurt, or the slide that was no big deal at all. Its about the speed and the braking so hard you simply can't squeeze the front brake any harder. Its the ritual of nerves, the process of getting ready mentally and physically and mechanically. Its taking that warm up lap and coming to your place on the grid. Watching the flag getting ready to drop and wondering how bad it might be getting to Turn 1. Not whether I might crash! But how far back so I might not have a chance at the podium. It is after all, about racing the other guys. They get in your way while you're racing the track!

3.2mb Quicktime Movie