Boundary Hunting
by Robert Beaupre

In the recent film The Great Outdoors: The Constant War, Kevin Windham wonders aloud what he can do to beat Ricky Carmichael when he finds himself four seconds per lap off RC's pace each weekend. As Windham discusses how he's already riding on the edge and still coming up short, there is a distinct note of hopelessness in his voice.

I can relate. Not in the sense that I have or ever will play runner-up to RC, but in the sense that I too find myself wondering what I can do to improve my lot as a racer these days. At 24 years old, and with a wife, daughter and work factoring in, I'm often at a loss for how I can move up from my longtime position as a midpack local pro.

And there's a thought in this that scares me: what if I've reached my highest level of ability? What if, for reasons genetic, environmental or otherwise, I have reached a plateau that I can never ascend past? Improvement is my basis of enjoyment in motocross, and to be stripped of that possibility would make the whole endeavor pointless.

(Before you interrupt: you might be ready to suggest that I ride more, study faster riders or even attend a motocross school. For the record, I ride as often as my schedule and finances will allow, dutifully watch every pro race that I can, national or otherwise, and reject motocross schools on the basis that I prefer to analyze and address my riding on my own at this point. Egotistical? Sure.)

One of the darkest hours for a racer is when he or she has no further advantage for which to strive. A happy rider is a rider who has something to look forward to. For instance, young riders eagerly wait for the day when they're more experienced to improve their results; privateers pin their hopes on the possibility of getting a factory bike to move up in the pack; and everyone else is just waiting for Ricky Carmichael to retire and for James Stewart to be lured away by a high-dollar NASCAR deal.

Windham, at this point in his career, has no higher ground to strive toward: he rides a factory Honda, has plenty of experience and is probably too old to hold out to Stewart's auto career. Windham has job security as a perennial podium contender, but I doubt that that is enough to keep him from lying awake at night, contemplating how he can escape the legacy of being another Mr. Second Place. He has the big pieces to succeed; it's the subtle differences he must now hope will make the difference.

I am similarly searching for a new plan to cling to, as I see no factory ride in my future, and it's hard to see my experience (19 years) as lacking. Unfortunately, my most realistic hope is dependent upon beating a clock that is ticking ever faster. You see, my results could be improved by having the time to practice no fewer than three times per week and the money to afford enough new parts to keep my bike from descending into a rattletrap in the process. This, however, would require the sort of wealth and professional independence that doesn't usually benefit 24-year-olds recent college grads. So I worry that by the age I have enough money and time to race in this fashion, I will be more likely to use my disposable income for new spectacles and 60 Minutes transcripts rather than tires and clutches.

So why have I told you this story of how my racing is stagnated and how I have no idea how to improve it (short of a lottery victory)? The only explanation I can muster is that I hoped I would figure out a solution somewhere in the writing process (things like that happen sometimes.) And, yes, I'd be lying if I said I didn't uncover some new ideas as I typed. Like what, you ask? I'd rather not share. Allow me to try them, and you'll be able to see at the track whether they're working.

But I will share this: the most important thing is that I have ideas at all. That's because the day that the ideas run out is the day that I, Windham and most likely you call it quits. No matter how silly, delusional or distant our hopes are, it's the hopes themselves that keeps racers going. Will my plans work? I'm not sure. But I think the excitement lies as much in the question as in the answer.

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