"Grab the bars and own it"

“He who fears death will never do anything worthy of a living man.” – Seneca

The end of night had to be close. I was heading east toward San Felipe and the Sea of Cortez. The deep, beautiful night sky began to relent at the horizon. I followed the course to a dry river wash with exceptionally deep coarse sand. Since Tanner crashed hard there in last year’s pre-run, I knew to watch out for partially submerged boulders, like manatees, that were the same color as the sand. Of course, at night, you see in black and white, not in color. Headlight shadows would help me.

The river wash made down a very long gradual slope. I knew it would dump me into a dry lake bed. When I got there, I opened it up to 88 miles an hour. The sky was getting lighter. Another bike was on my wing, and we held our relative positions to stay out of each other’s dust.

A dry lake bed is flat as a tabletop. But you still can’t let your guard down. Every so often they get wet and soft. Vehicles can make ruts and holes, and at 90 mph things happen very fast. On a dirt bike you are open in the wind. Fighting a 90-mph wind that wants to blow you off your bike takes work, and you have to find a position that works and hold still.

I was happy to be going so fast. I was watching my moving average on the GPS. I had to average 24.5 mph to finish in 48 hours. It sounds easy. But factor in all the stops and turns, and you have less cushion than you may think. Going 90 for 10 minutes helps your average.

The lake bed ended and funneled me and two other bikes near me into silty twisted paths. At times the silt got very deep. Silt is created when crusty dried dirt is pulverized by wheel traffic. 40” tires backed by 800 horsepower from pre-running trophy trucks are the perfect silt making machines. The silt can be 20” deep or more. Imagine riding along on a motorcycle and hitting 20” of flour, often with rocks or uneven terrain under it that you can’t see.

The silt, and silty ruts are the most dreaded terrain for a racer in Baja.

I took some alternate lines to stay out of the dust, and wound up off course. I had to thread a virgin line through brush, ledge, rocks and cactus to get back on course. It was half-light now, and a few miles of whoops gave way to a smooth dirt road. I knew the van was ahead.

Ralph was holding the sign – 714x. A welcome sight every time I see it. I pulled up and they sprang into action. Andrew and Arturo took care of the bike. I took my jacket off and dressed for the day when it would be 60 degrees hotter.

I got my shoulders and arms rubbed out, which feels great and is a huge help. Muscles that are under heavy use without a break start to cramp. I ate and drank. I swapped my clear goggles for tinted ones. A helmet cam change and I was back on the bike.

It was mile 200, and it was fully light out now. When Tanner passed here, he was in first place still!

I felt reborn with the sun. Each day is a new start no matter what happened yesterday or last night. I thanked my team. I really, really meant it. I was, and am grateful for them. I could not do it alone.

We all have people who support us in our lives. Whether they are family, friends, employees, customers, or people we don’t even know who make things we need to do what we do. I may have been the only rider, but I was far from the only one fielding the 714x.

My personal race plan had goals. We need goals; big ones and interim ones. Milestones to hit. I had planned to be at the dry lake bed by daylight. Instead, I was 20 miles past it.

I was encouraged…