mx775

In the last year or so, I’ve felt more and more like a rider split in two. On the one hand, there’s the part of me that wants to think of motocross as a pastime, something in which I look for simple pleasure rather than accomplishment. But the other part of me, which used to be the whole me, still wants desperately to do well at the races and to be regarded as a serious racer.

 
Each part of me doesn’t get along well with the other, so trying to get them to write a single essay together is impossible. So I have no choice here but to give each his own separate say. Let’s begin with the part of me that wants to just have fun on a dirt bike and not deal with the injuries and stress that go with chasing results. Let’s call him Rider A.

 
Rider A

 
While I can remember wanting nothing more than to win motocross races, I know that era has past. I’m 26 now, and I have a two-year-old daughter plus another baby on the way in March. My first priority is to be healthy and present for them at all times.

 
Let’s face it: trying to race competitively in the Pro class is not an easy thing—especially as you get older. When you have a family, it’s not easy to set aside time and money, and those things are essential if you want to do well as a racer. What’s the point of lining up for big races when you know you haven’t invested properly for it?

 
And then there’s the biggest thing: when you strive constantly to push your limits in a race environment, you are going to crash. Maybe not this race or the next, but always eventually. There’s just no way around it. As I write this, I can’t ride because I broke my collarbone and received a concussion in a race just three weeks ago.

 
But that’s really nothing. The thought that really scares me involves a big crash. What would happen if I hurt myself—not something like a broken collarbone, but something serious? Something permanent? I might not be able to play with my kids, or take them on a trail ride someday. And how would I feel then? Would that last attempt at glory have been worth it?

 
No, I don’t care what that clown—what are we calling him? Rider B?—thinks about this. It’s time for me to take it easy, to enjoy groomed practices and rainy days on my bike without the worries about my fitness or the sharpness of the knobs on my tires. It’s time to just have fun and stay safe.

 
Are you reading this, Rider B? You ain’t headed for a factory semi. You’re more likely to just end up with more credit card debt and a permanent limp. Let’s drop the hardcore racer routine and move on with a little grace, shall we?

 
Rider B

 
I can’t dispute with most of the facts Rider A laid down, as pathetic as he is. Racing is dangerous and expensive, as he said. And it takes a real commitment to get better when you’ve been racing for 20 years. Fair enough.

 
But look at me: I’m 26 and I’ve never felt better about my riding. I’m still learning new things all the time. What is the sense in stopping now when I’ve worked my whole life to get this far? Why not see just how far I can take it?

 
Sure, I’m not going to make a career out of it now, and I do need to make time for my wife and kids. But who’s to say I still can’t claw a little higher and accomplish something new? There are so many races that I never really succeeded at, or even got to compete in, that it would surely be torture if I quit. I’d be forced to spend the rest of my life always wondering whether I could have done a little better, achieved a bit more.

 
And while I also worry about my kids, I understand that continuing my racing will teach them an important lesson: that you should always be willing to stand by your dreams. I know that there’s danger and cost at every step of my path, but abandoning it all now would mean leaving behind 20 years of effort.

 
Besides, how do I know that I won’t be killed on the freeway tomorrow, or that I won’t fall dead from an aneurysm when I walk away from this keyboard? If you’re going to live, you might as well try to do it to the fullest. You can never be sure what will happen in life, no matter how safely you try to proceed.

 
Rider A may be content to sit on the sidelines of life, but I’m not ready to. If he wants to make the first move toward becoming a lazy, ambitionless trail rider, let him find his own body. I’m sure it will be perfectly preserved for him when he finally arrives at the end of his dull, pointless life.

 
****

 
Allowing these two to have their say doesn’t really accomplish much, I realize. No matter what, I can’t keep them from their constant battle, which will surely last until one eventually subdues or kills the other. Like Harry and Lord Voldemort, neither can live while the other survives.

 
So which will win out? In the short term it's hard to say. I won't be able to ride for a few more weeks and I can't be sure how I'll feel when I return. But in the long term it's obvious that Rider A will have his way. His voice has gotten stronger and stronger ever since he first appeared, and his argument is considerably more reasonable. Rider B, after all, has always been a little insane--even when he was all I had.