Why Do You Race?
During a week in which we could use a little sanity on the message board, a young racer offered some by posing a question: why do you race motocross?
On the surface it seems easy to answer. Motocross is obviously fun and exciting, and the experiences one has in racing are hard to top in a lot of ways. But after that I wondered: what exactly makes it fun and exciting? Or, more specifically, what makes it worth the stress, danger and expense that riders face in pursuing it?
I came up with a few different explanations on this, but I’m not sure that any of them fully explain what makes it worth it for me. Here are some of my rejected hypotheses:
The Social Aspect There are many opportunities for camaraderie and friendship in motocross, and I’ve made some good friends racing dirt bikes, and many, many good acquaintances.
Yet I have a lot of good friends who’ve never even ridden a dirt bike, and I have so much to do with family most days that I only see most of my motocross friends at the races. So I’m not sure the social aspect in itself explains anything.
The Adrenaline Aspect There seems to be something habit-forming about things that raise the pulse, and few things raise the pulse more than diving into the first turn with a dozen other racers. As terrifying as it is in the moment, I always seem to want to do it again when it’s all over.
But there are many other ways I’ve found to scare myself, and many of them are not as genuinely dangerous as motocross (skateboarding at the park near my house, for example.) And while I always feel exhilarated snowboarding, I almost never want to do it until I’m actually at the top of the hill again. So I’m not convinced it’s only the adrenaline.
The Ego Aspect I will not lie to you: I am proud that I can ride a motocross bike at the level that I do. I am certainly no RC, but racing at the highest local level has always been something I silently congratulate myself on each time I check the “Pro” box on my entry forms. And it gives me a great thrill each time someone tells me that I looked fast in the last moto.
Yet for every reminder I have of my success, there is always some other thing that drives me to humility. For example, I have raced Nate Tiearney for many years, because we are about the same age and grew up in the same city. And while I can recall beating--at least once or twice--most of the other riders that race my class, I am positive I have never beat Nate (at least not straight up.) Sure, Nate is a very good rider, but it’s discouraging to think that I am 0-932 against him.
So with no clear explanation on what makes motocross worth it to me, I could maybe assume that it’s the combination of these things that add up to make it worthwhile. All of the things above surely count for something, after all.
But there’s one other thing.
When I am going to sleep at night, I think about riding. I think most often about the last time I rode: the jumps, the turns, the starts. And when I think about them, there are no friends in the picture, no jolts of adrenaline, no reminders of ego. There is just riding, and the simple satisfaction of moving on a dirt bike.
And it’s within this habit that the truest explanation for my devotion to motocross may lie. Motocross is like a song that’s become stuck in my head, a tune that I keep humming unconsciously to myself for reasons I don’t fully understand.
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But enough about me. Why do you race motocross? Please tell us here or on the original post that Preston Joy made on the message board. And thanks for bringing this up, Preston.
