Technically I’m not back publishing yet. This experience was so intense however that I had to share it immediately!
So I generally don’t ever freak out. I registered for a guided track day through Chicane Track Days months ago. I’ve spent almost a year prior to this acquiring all the safety gear I’d need. I’ve spent more money on the bike in the last 3 weeks than I ever have before in such a short time. Throughout all this, I was very calm and collected. Well, I guess I should have prepared better.
It all started off innocent enough when I browsed a thread about said track day in our local sport bike forum. I have been known to miss a few things here and there, and I’ve learned to adapt in making those situations adventures, instead of stressing. Well, a track day isn’t something I want to make an adventure. I guess my feelings speak to the importance I’ve ascribed to this particular event. I’m worrying if the bike will be just right, if my gear will be sufficient, if I’ll perform alright, if others are going to make fun of me, if I’ll be a laughing stock with my 250, or even worse, what if I’m much better than I had anticipated and people start complimenting me! That just wouldn’t do, I couldn’t handle that pressure. Heaven forbid somebody ask me for advice. Oh heavens! So much going through my head.
And I’m stuck at work, in front of a desk, for at least another 4 hours. I have a boiling pit in my stomach causing a black-lacquered daemon to vibrate underneath my skin, ready to explode my being into oblivion. I used to get very excited about things when I was a kid. My entire life my mother has told me this is because I have a great capacity for passion. If this is passion, I want to be the most boring person on earth right now, this is downright torture!
I take many walks over the course of 2 hours. I can’t sit still, I can’t eat, and can only drink water and chain smoke to put even Satan to shame! I know I’m very far off base when two very good friends at work point out, very directly I might add, that I’ve jumped off the deep end.
To be continued.