Attitude changes your world

“Could we change our attitude, we should not only see life differently, but life itself would be different.  Life would undergo a change of appearance because we ourselves had undergone a change of attitude.” – Katherine Mansfield

In large measure, you see and get what you expect.

The world is your own reflection.

What is your attitude?

Advice to those experiencing disasters

I just got home from being away for 11 days in Morocco for a race.  Helene had rolled through before I left, and I heard about Milton when I got back. 

A long-time subscriber named Sean Perry who lives in Asheville North Carolina told me in the comments about the predicament in Asheville.  They have no running water, among many other things.

I have gone through some significant disasters in my life including my home burning to the basement floor 10 years ago.

Here is my best advice to people in Tampa, Asheville, or anywhere – 

1) Know that you are not your stuff.  Not your house, not your cars, not your clothes or furniture, and not even your family photos and momentos.  You can do without stuff.  There will always be more stuff.

2) Who you are being and your relationships are most important.

3) I know you probably can’t see it now, but this is an opportunity.  Trust me.  You’ll see.

4) When emotions go up, intelligence goes down.  Try to get past the heightened emotion as soon as you can. Take your time to curse the wind.  Then be done. When you have some time where you are thinking clearly and calmly, make a plan.  

What is the end result you want in a year or two or three and will work towards?

What are the steps to getting there?

Organize those steps in order and priority.  What is first?

Once you figure that out, act on it.

One thing at a time.

5) If that is too much at the moment, then don’t try to figure it all out at once.  Just look up and ask “What do I have to do today?”  Be your best today.  This hour.  This minute.

6) Take care of your health.  If dealing with the disaster is wearing you down and down each day, take some “time off” and get some rest.  The bad event is one thing.  It happens once. (ok Tampa, maybe twice.) But we beat ourselves with it and release stress chemicals into our body by reliving it over and over.  Don’t make your response to the event worse than the event long term.

7) Don’t try to do it all yourself.  Ask “Who can help me?”

8) If you can’t figure out a long-term plan because there are unknowns, figure out an interim plan – for now.

9) One hour at a time, one minute at a time.

10)  You are not a victim.  This is a test to make you better and see what you can handle and who you can be.  Embrace it.

11) Don’t argue with what happened.  Accept it.  Then work to make things better as you always have.

12) I’d rather live in Asheville in America right now, than in Morocco.  You are still lucky. 

13) Help others.

14) Keep talking to others – but not so much to others who drag you down into despair.  Communicate – don’t withdraw.

14) Be grateful.  There is always plenty to be grateful for.

You have a lot of life ahead.  This will be a story soon enough.  Make it a happy ending by doing your best and not giving up.

I hope this helps.

Irrational people

Some people you just can’t deal with.  And that’s ok.  Once you find that out, don’t.  It’s not worth trying.

Get around people who make sense and be happy.

“No rational argument will have a rational effect on a man who does not want to adopt a rational attitude.” – Karl Popper

Gate #60 – Part 3

I climbed the famed “Goat Trail” to a high plateau.  I knew they must be coming soon.

Suddenly a red helicopter dove down in front of me.  Fortunately, I was in a place where I could get off the course.  I pulled over and looked back.  There was violence and speed.  The first trophy truck blew by me.  I knew the train would be coming.

I wait for the dust to clear enough to see and look back to make sure another truck is not behind in the dust.  If there was and he could not see me….well…

I press on.  Another helicopter.  This time I’m in a narrow section with berms on both sides.  I can’t just get off the course.  There are rocks and cactus and bushes along the sides…I spy an opening and slow down.  I turn the bars toward the berm and gas it.  I pop up out of the course rut and between two bushes.  Exactly two seconds later the screaming dragon goes by at about 70 miles an hour.  Two seconds….

This process is repeated for the next three hours.  It’s sketchy.  If this was my first race I’d be freaked out.

I raced to the little town of Ojos Negros where for the last 25 miles the bikes and the four-wheel vehicles would split.  I would not have to deal with race trucks passing me anymore – or their dust.  

I see my chase team for the last time.  The sun is going down.  I’m relieved to be riding “alone” now.  I rise up into these last hills.  I am in pain.  Standing – bad shoulder, traps, and hands hurt.  Sitting – butt hurts.

Up and down.  I unleash the Big and Nasty over and over to conquer each steep climb.

13 miles to go.  I get to the top of yet another steep descent.  Rain ruts form over time on the steep slopes.  I pause at the top to scan which line to take – left, right, or center.  I see tracks on the right.  I go right. A deep rain rut appears just to the left of my wheels.  It’s about 8″ wide and 16″ deep making it down the hill.  The surface my wheels are on starts pitching toward the rut.  “Ut oh, ut oh, UT OH!”  I feel my wheels sliding toward the rut as I descend down the hill.  I know it’s going to happen.

My front wheel drops 16″ into the rut and the whole bike stops.  My boots are straight up overhead, hands on the bars still.  As I am flying I think about how far I had come and how close I am.  “Not now!” 

I hit the ground flat, my backpack cushioning my back.  It knocked the wind out of me.  I assess the damage – and I’m OK!  I stand and gather myself.  The bike’s headlight beam cuts into the dust.  I muscle the bike up and out of the rut.  

13 miles to go.  I get on and ride down this hill to the next steep ascent.

Near the finish, the four-wheeled vehicles join again with the bikes for the last 3 miles.  This is where I started 15 1/2 hours ago.  The dust is ridiculously thick.  I can’t see – some places not for ten feet.  In places, I am literally duck paddling.

Finally, I turn a corner and see the timed finish.  Four guys there waving checkered flags and checking wristbands.  I pull into the lights and shut my engine down.  I have to take a couple of minutes before I ride back into town to the ceremonial finish. 

I had done it.

60.  

Gate #60 – part 2

I bobbed through the boulders and whoops.  Very steep hill climbs were near and my self-talk was that I would eat them for breakfast.  6:45 am and you’re on a dirtbike in Baja California Mexico unleashing 50 horsepower on a silty rutted hill strewn with boulders…what could be better?

I talked in my helmet.  Partially because I needed a voice for support and entertainment, and partially because I had a voice recorder the guys put in my helmet.  I started calling my bikes engine the “Big and Nasty”. 

“Imma unload the big and nasty on this hill!”

I rode in “Eco-Sport” mode.  I wanted to go fast but I knew it was a long race and I had to be there at the end.  I got passed and was in third again.  I didn’t worry about it.  He was almost done with his turn.  I had to go the distance.  If I beat a team, as I did in April in the San Felipe 250, finishing second solo against two teams, it would be a big surprise.  We’ll see.  I’m riding my race.

I had been seeing this Ironman (solo) Rider every 50 miles at the gas pits.  He’d have his helmet off taking a break.  I’d get gas and pass him, only to have him pass me some miles later.  Then the next gas pit I’d see him again.  He was riding faster than me but seemed to be having issues with is endurance.

The course flattened out along the coast.  It was wide open along barbed wire fences that farmers put up to mark their fields (though how anyone grows anything here in this parched land…).  I see the Ironman’s dust in the distance ahead of me.  I decide to hunt him down and show him what a 60 year old Ironman can do.  I get closer.

There was an alternate line on the right.  The course was almost dead flat.  I open it up to about 75 mph to make my move on him.  I was almost side by side with him – that’s when I saw a farmer had plowed a trench about 2 foot deep with a berm of dirt on the other side about 2 1/2 foot tall.  Instinctively I lock both brakes but I know I will not have time to stop.

I would be a passenger when I hit it – I knew I was in trouble.  I slowed to about half the speed when I went in.  I thought I’d be thrown over the bars and rag doll out there.  I brace as hard as my arms and legs could – and hit the other side of the trench with great impact.  Shocks when through my shoulders – including the bad one.  Before I knew it I was on the other side of the berm stopped.  It was the “crash without crashing”.  It hurt as if I did crash.  

The Ironman’s dust line drew out into the distance without him knowing what had just happened 50 feet to his right.  I breathed through it, and restarted my bike.

The day before I was really worried that I had used up reserves of energy I’d need when I preran the 50 miles when my body wanted to rest.  I got three pieces of great advice that I keep repeating in my head.

My wife Marie said “Do your best”.

My son Tanner said “Ride smooth, keep going.”

My friend Jason Waldek, who is a rider himself, said “If this is your last solo motorcycle race, enjoy every minute of it.”

Pretty good advice for living – Do your best, go smooth, keep going, and enjoy the ride.

I emerged from the hills of Urapan on Route 1 – the Pacific side of Baja.  I saw my west side chase truck – Randy and Dean, and my video friend Jesse.  I woof down some calories and I’m off.  My competition just ahead of me.

I wound around the graded road switchbacks from Santo Tomas to the coast.  I round a turn and there it is – the gleaming Pacific Ocean right in front of me.  I race south.  Race fans scattered the course here.  I enter the little coastal town of Eridira.  If this was in the states the lots would cost millions.

I find the wash inland and see my chase again.  More calories.  Go.  At mile 125 there’s a steep hill climb that is really rough and boulder strewn.  Technical.  Big and Nasty goes to work.  Glad that is past me.

The miles are long miles it seems.  Various body parts take turns protesting the loudest.  I acknowledge the signals and keep going.

I hit the pavement for an 8 mile trip up the highway.  The first day of prerunning it was 110 degrees and the afternoon pavement made it seem like 125.  It was the hottest I have ever ridden in.  But this race day was cooler – thankfully.

I get to a place called the “Crossover Road”.  It’s a dirt road that connects the west side and Highway 1 near Colonet with Highway 3 in Valle Trinidad.  The course would follow the road for a while (easy) and then dive into the hills and some of the most technical challenging terrain of the course. 

Body is not happy.  Mind tries to convince body that were good.  Bring it.

More hills, more silty ruts, more rocks.  Branches slap my arms at turns when I have to lean in.  Some are cactus but most thorns have been knocked off by other race traffic – but not all.  I have KT tape under my jersey from my elbow to my wrist for this reason.

I get cross-rutted and go down on a rock on my bad shoulder.  Hurt.  Lucky.  If I had lurched another inch forward when I hit the ground my shoulder would have been in much worse shape against the rock.

Finally and mercifully, I emerge at Highway 3.  I turn north for a few miles and see my chase holding a big yellow sign “614x”.  I pull in and eat more calories.  I have 120 miles to go.  It’s late afternoon.  The sun is lower.

I see the Ironman rider I had been chasing all race.  He was sitting in a chair.  I knew that look.  He tapped out.  He would not finish.

Soon I would enter another chapter of the race.  Helicopters would come down and buzz me.  Bop, bop, bop, bop.  The most acute danger on the course was coming from behind….