The Meaning in Moto
by Robert Beaupre

“Degrees of ability vary, but the basic principle remains the same: the degree of a man’s independence, initiative and personal love for his work determines his talent as a worker and his worth as a man...There is no substitute for personal dignity. There is no standard of personal dignity except independence.”

--Howard Roark, The Fountainhead

The quote above comes from a 1943 novel by Ayn Rand about a brilliant yet controversial character named Howard Roark. Roark is a young architect with bold ideas that infuriate the architectural establishment, most of whom continue to deem classical forms as the only architectural models worth aspiring to. But Roark, assured only by his own sense of innovation and worth, attempts to forge a career for himself in spite of the establishment’s bitter opposition to his approach.

Throughout the book, many around Roark are puzzled and intrigued by his unflinching commitment to his ideas and independence. Even as numerous forces conspire to wreck his career, Roark remains utterly unconcerned with their presence. When one of his most virulent critics, unsure what to make of Roark’s indifference toward him, asks Roark what he thinks of him, Roark’s response comes across plainly: “But I don’t think of you.”

What was the reason Roark didn’t think of his critics or the public’s general impression of him? It was simple: To Howard Roark, the only person whom he felt he had to please was himself. His measure of self-respect bore no attachment to money or fame or any other outside assurance, but only to his own opinion of what he accomplished.

By now you might be wondering what this has to do with motocross, and I will now tell you: Everything.

There has been controversy recently on the MX West Message Board on the state of the Beginner class. Some have complained that too many sandbaggers are ruining the class; others have suggested that Beginners should concern themselves more with having fun and improving their abilities than worrying who’s on the line. While it is clearly in the interests of safety to have people of roughly the same skill level on the track at one time, those who have become upset over what they view as sandbagging might be missing an important point.

The greatest moments in my motocross career have not always corresponded to the instances in which I’ve won. In fact, some of the races I’ve won in my life have been utterly meaningless, while sometimes I’ve finished sixth and been completely elated. The lesson here is that it is not the result that matters in motocross, or the respect one stands to receive by winning, or even the money that beckons to the fastest among us. The only true measure of success in motocross is the sense of accomplishment that one feels when a new barrier is cleared. And the only rightful judge of when this occurs is you.

Motocross is filled with inherent inequalities. Just think of it: this is a sport in which riders compete on a variety of motorcycles, employing varied qualities of equipment, and using the skills learned through vastly different amounts of experience. Consider then that some riders will have the natural abilities to improve almost effortlessly and others will have to put every ounce of their heart into the task of escaping the Beginner class. While it is true that the gate drops and the checkered flag flies in the same way for everyone, there is very little else that qualifies as equitable in motocross.

Yet there is still meaning to be found on a motocross track. For most of us, motocross racing grew out of our sense of elation that came when we first learned to ride a motorcycle. It wasn’t important at the time that literally millions of other people across the globe had mastered this basic skill before us. All that intrigued us was that we had accomplished this task, and that infusion of learning put us on a road on which we sought to gain that feeling again and again.

But it is easy to lose sight of that simple pleasure when we enter motocross racing. Somewhere along the line we are likely to get tied to quantifiable measures of success. In other words, our goal becomes to earn first place in the 125cc Beginner class, rather than to experience the joy that occurs with expanding our abilities. It no longer matters how well we ride or what enjoyment we receive--so long as we earn a trophy.

It is from this mindset that contempt for anyone who is perceived to abuse the now-precious class structure emerges. While there are occasional cases in which a rider is clearly cherry-picking to win a trophy, the contempt arises far more often than that. Sometimes a rider only has to win by a modest margin to receive the ire of the rest of the class. These instances not only defy reality (I’ve seen some so-called sandbaggers in my day that were in fact riding at correct level, only against an unusually sub-par group) but they also obscure that original sense of learning and enjoyment.

If you know that you rode better than ever, and beat your buddy that you’ve been chasing for months, then what does it matter that you were beat by someone whom you feel is riding out of class? Since the only tangible reward for winning a race in the amateur classes is a plastic trophy, then why not make it your goal to enjoy yourself and improve your abilities, rather than to sit atop a soon-to-be-forgotten results sheet?

Howard Roark enjoys his job even though much of the world views his highly original work with contempt. It could not matter less to him whether he ever wins any awards or achieves any notoriety; it is the actual process of creating and overcoming obstacles that gives him satisfaction. Everything else--money, fame, sex, etc.--is meaningless in comparison to how he feels of his own pursuits and his own abilities.

The same should be true of motocross. The highest goal we can seek in motocross is to constantly expand our abilities and test our limitations. To seek anything else is a pursuit that will lead you down many nonsensical roads, including perhaps that of worrying more about where you finished than of how you actually rode.

If it gets hard to keep sight of this, just remember that we are competing in an obscure sport in the middle of a field for a handful of bored onlookers, of whom only our spouses are likely to be paying attention.

And let's be honest: even our spouses aren't paying attention after the third lap.


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