When trying new things, friends are always armed with advice on whether you should go for it or not. There are also situations when people advise you when to be strong and when to be afraid. When to jump and when to stay on the ledge. And most often such advice are reflections of the advisor’s own values and inhibitions, not necessarily what’s best for you and your situation.
And yes, I’ve been one of those “friends,” too.
Over Halloween weekend, my husband was a driver in the inaugural ChumpCar race at Portland International Raceway with the Lab Rats. As we announced John’s participation in the race and his ambitions to get into road racing in general, we were flooded warnings about how expense this habit is (and was) and things to be aware of (like his safety). There were cheerleaders, too. A number of friends were excited about what a good opportunity this would be for him, and friends who quietly complimented me on how great it is that I’m supportive of his hobbies and ambitions.
All things I didn’t know that I should be thinking about, but friends did for me. And I am thankful for that.
Whenever we talk about racing to non-racers, people ask me if I’m scared. Scared of what? I ask before piping in that I race, too. But this is a different kind of racing, this is road racing. A definition that I’ll always mix up with rally, don’t ask why, it just happens.
See autocross is safe. It’s the driver verses cones and corner workers who are told to watch the car and jump out of the way. Cones, by the way, are harmless except to your pride. Autocross races at comfortable speeds at the top of second gear, 60 MPH max, and usually one car on course at a time.
Road race is wheel-to-wheel racing. It’s one car versus however many else enter the race. It’s mandatory roll cages and fireproof race suits with nomex underwear. It’s John, sewing a patch onto his race suit and getting upset when I hand him polyester blend thread instead of organic thread because he doesn’t want the polyester thread to burn a hole on his skin, if a worst case scenario were to happen. It’s watching John in his race gear, trying to sneak a kiss in before he pulls down is balaclava and puts his helmet on. It’s standing on the other side of the wall as a teammate helps him crawl into the car and strap him in.
It’s trusting that everything will be okay.
It’s understanding that John is doing what he loves in a way that is safe and I can support. It’s giving in to the fact that I can’t protect him, but the cage that his team built and the safety equipment they installed can.
It’s watching him on course for the first time and not thinking about any of this but feeling. Feeling my heart swell Grinch-style, three-sizes too big. It’s being nervous that something will happen to him and being scared that he’ll have to test the roll cage and the fuel shut off system they installed. It’s feeling like I could cry at any moment while smiling larger than I ever have before.
It’s pride when he lays down some of the fastest laps of the entire race. It’s excitement when he jumps out of the car with a smile plastered to his face. It’s feeling apprehensive when he gets in the car again. And it’s knowing how hard he’s worked over the past few months and years to get to this point.
On our way home from the race, I looked over at my adrenaline drunk husband and saw him in a new light. He’s officially a road racer, and I’m on board with this new chapter in our life. I will always feel uneasy when he’s out on course. But then again, all my friends say I should, so why not?
Laura Kimball, is obviously, the wife of John Kimball and supporter of Autosport Labs. During ChumpCar, she tweeted for @AutosportLabs and helped feed the LabRats (a feat in itself!). She is a social media enthusiast and is developing her personal blog. Until then, you can find her on Twitter.
What a wonderful perspective.