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….

Gate #60

On September 14 I raced the third race of six that I had planned this year.  It’s a very big race year for me, but I thought I should do it while I am relatively healthy and able.

This race was the Baja 400 in Mexico.  I entered on a motorcycle in the 60 and over class.  That’s the oldest class they have bracketed out and is typically used by ex-pro racers – guys with a lot of experience and smarts.  If they weren’t smart, their career would have been over a long time ago.

There was a team of four riders, a team of five riders, and me.  I was solo.  I wanted to solo it and become the oldest to ever do so.  If I had four guys on my team I could go 100 miles and give the bike to the next guy.  That’s easy.  But I don’t race to make it easy.  

I preran the whole course.  205 miles on Tuesday.  Brutal.  I was so beat at the end of the day.  Armando was my chase truck driver and I had my film crew of Ted and Jesse with me as we are trying to make “Into the Dust 5”.  We were at a taco stand in Valle Trinidad, a dusty little town 2 1/5 hours from our hotel in Ensenada.  I was very uncomfortable just sitting up in the van’s passenger seat.  If we went back to Ensenada tonight we’d have to come back here in the morning to pick up the pre-running where I left off.

Armanda suggested we stay in this little town that night to save five hours of driving.  I jumped at the idea.  No toiletries, no change of clothes….but I needed to sleep.

My knees aren’t great and I had a nagging shoulder injury that hurts some when I ride.  You might think that if I was this uncomfortable and beat after 205 miles, how could I race the 432 miles on race day (Saturday)?  I always wonder the same thing.   But I have experience and I know that on race day you can out things together that you couldn’t on a regular day.  Don’t think about that.  Just get some rest right now.

In the morning I put all the same dirty clothes and gear on and set out for another 170 miles.  At the end of the day – I was beat and just wanted to lay down.  Baja is very rough.  It’s hard to explain.  The course takes me on terrain you would have great difficulty walking on.  Steep hills climbs and decents.  Silt filled ruts.  Rocks.  Deep sand.  And it goes forever – and ever.

I rested on Thursday.  On Friday we went through tech inspection, got interviewed on the podium, and waded through the throngs of race fans who showed up for a pre race festival to see all the race vehicles.  Then I had to get my gear on again.  The last thing I wanted to do the day before the race was to burn more energy.  I needed to rest.  But I had to prerun the first 30 miles and the last 20 miles of the course.  They only open it for prerunning the day before the race, and the last section was brand new in the hills, which I had heard would be a challenge.  I’d hit it in the dark on race day so I needed to see what I was getting into.

At 6 pm there was a mandatory rider meeting.  After that I went to my hotel room and tried to sleep.  It’s not easy to sleep when you have to get up at 2:45 am to get geared up and go to staging.  I didn’t sleep much.

At 2:45 the alarm went off and I dutifully got up (I was awake) and began doing what my morning preparation checklist said to do.  KT tape in 8 places, sunblock on the back of my neck, socks, padded bicyclists tights with a padded butt, bicyclists shorts with padded butt, knee braces…..

I ate the sandwich and banana I had in my room for breakfast while I got ready.  I walked out to the parking lot where my team had my bike ready. I got on and started the beast, and rolled through the city streets of Ensenada to the starting line.  The starter official put us in order.  At 4:15 they started letting bikes go. Every 60 seconds for the Pro Unlimited Class, then every 30 seconds after that. 

But this was just a ceremonial start. We were in the middle of a big city. Granted there was no traffic at this time, but you can’t go screaming through a city at race speed without grave danger.  So we gathered up and got a police escort 17 miles up into the hills where they had a timed start location. 

On my way through town my GPS wasn’t tracking.  Oh no.  I shut it down and rebooted it while I was riding.  Problem solved.  

We ascended up and away from the Pacific Ocean and city heat island and the temperature went down.  I had only a thin race jersey on and I was freezing.  As we got closer to the timed start we rode into a fog bank.  This is worst-case scenario for vision.  My goggles fogged up.  Luckily I was prepared with a white terry washcloth hanging from a wire tie on my backpack strap.  I could reach down with my left hand and grab it and wipe my goggles off.

It was 5:10 am now.  Thirty seconds before I was to get the real green flag I watched the rider in front of me take off into the darkness and fog and disappear.  My turn.  I hit the gas and let the clutch out.  432 miles to go.

There was no wind.  Dust from the guys in front of me hung in the air and stuck to my wet goggles.  I had to wipe my goggles with my trusty rag every 20 seconds.  How long before it became filthy and saturated?

I had to go slow because I could not see.  The beginning had a lot of off-camber turns where the course pitches left but turns right.  It’s these conditions that break bones and end your race if you over ride them.

Slow going.  Dust.  Fog. Dark.  50 minutes later I notice the sky is getting lighter – there is a horizon.  Slowly, mile by mile, it gets lighter.  I can start seeing in color – the colors of the desert.  Up into the hills and I breakout of the fog.  I’m riding a ridge looking down at the top of the clouds – like riding in heaven.

Back down into the fog.  At mile 40 I meet my east side chase team for the first time.  Another rider comes in screaming in pain.  He crashed in the fog and broke his shoulder and foot.

I swap my goggle rag and get going.  I pass one bike in my class – I’m in second place after starting third.  The fog is burning off from sunlight.  My cold hands are aching on the grips.  The temperature is coming up and it feels good. 

370 miles to go…

Keep your goals in front of you

At the beginning of this year I wrote all my goals for the year down on one index card.  I have personal goals, business goals, family goals – all of them.

I have that index card on a little stand at my desk where I see it everyday. 

When I accomplish a goal, I color it with a yellow highlighter.

Do you have goals written down?  If so you are a small group – only 3% of Americans do.  Once written however, keep the goals in front of you every day.  Re-read them.  If you do you will find yourself acting on them.

Live on purpose.

Get it!

There's nothing wrong with being wrong

“If anyone can prove and show me that I think and act in error, I will gladly change it – for I seek truth, by which no one has ever been harmed.  The one who is harmed is the one who abides in deceit and ignorance.” – Marcus Aurelius

If you are getting better then you SHOULD be changing your mind about things. 

Do you want the same ideas, beliefs, and philosophies that you had when you were 25 years old when you are 50?

Search for truth, not validation that you are right.

It’s ok to see and admit you were wrong and change your mind.

The "Tough Crowd"

“Don’t join an easy crowd.  You won’t grow. Go where the expectations and the demands to perform are high.” – Jim Rohn

Do the people you have around with have high expectations of you?

Does conforming to them mean you have to up your game?

Clear Mental Pictures

Your mind can’t act on fuzzy mental pictures.

A person can accomplish anything so long as they can see very clear mental pictures of themselves doing it first.

Take the time to establish a clear mental picture of what you see yourself doing, being or having.

Get very clear.  See it first.

Then keep it present in your mind until it becomes a reality.

From the inner, the outer.

Race Report!

For those that don’t know – I race.  Desert racing to be exact.  Long distances.  Two wheels sometimes, and four wheels sometimes.  It gives me a reason to stay in shape, something to look forward to, and teaches me mental and physical toughness that makes the rest of life easy.

I am racing 6 races this year.  Two on a motorcycle, and four in a desert race car (UTV).  Three races down, three to go now.  I am behind on reporting.  The second race was the longest race in the United States – Vegas to Reno.  I soloed the 555 miles with my navigator Dustin Gebers who is from Nashville area.  

There is no pre-running this race.  You show up and race it by following a GPS and course markers.  

We started 5th of 8 in our class. By mile 20 we were in third but we hit a big rock in a silt rut I couldn’t get out of fast enough and got a flat. Dustin changed it but it took longer than normal (11 minutes, should be 4-5) because of some technical difficulties. 

15 vehicles went by us in that time and we were now last with 535 miles to go. We worked our way back up. 

Trying to pass is tough in the dust. You are blinded the closer you get to the guy you want to pass. But lucky there was some wind to help blow the dust away. 

There are 13 pits set up. Our strategy is to only stop twice for fuel at pit 5 and pit 10. Our chase team would throw ziplock bags with sandwiches to us and on smooth sections Dustin could hand me pieces of sandwich while I was driving. That and Kind bars kept us going for 12 hours of non- stop driving at race speed. 

This strategy worked as we passed a couple of our own class competitors while they were pitting and we weren’t, but we passed many race vehicles from other classes who were making dust in front of us. We didn’t change drivers like most other teams either. That takes about four minutes each change.  So no race vehicle in this 555 mile race stopped less than us. One flat and two 90 second pits. 

We caught up, 5th, 4th, 3rd, 2nd….we passed our main competitor from Baja and the Factory Honda team who both broke down. We were told that we were 8 minutes behind the leader. (When we drive through a pit we are close enough for VHF radio communication to our team, and they’d tell us how far back we were). 50 miles later they said 10 minutes. 

Our Honda Talon is underpowered with only 105 hp compared to most others who have 130 or so. (We are a non-turbo class). So on the high-speed straight sections they were doing about 10-15 mph faster and that’s where they’d pull away on us. In the technical sections, (which means rocks or tight turns) we’d catch up. 

Then the leader had to pit once for five minutes and another pit for 7 minutes to work on their car. We were only 4 minutes down with 80 miles to go. At one point about 50 miles out we saw a UTV on the side with the driver out working on the car. We thought (hoped) we could be in the lead. But it was not them. 

The last 35 miles, were brutal rocks up and down the mountain. We made it through fast and with no flats. The leader got a flat there but had it changed in 4 minutes and he had pulled on us again on the fast sections before that. 

We crossed the finish line fourteen minutes behind him so it was not to be. We finished second. 

Besides the one preventable flat (my bad) we ran a perfect race.  Dustin called the turns perfectly for 12 straight hours without a break. We were physically run down for sure.

So far this year I have one motorcycle race and one UTV race completed- with two second place finishes. Four more races left including the two most epic races on the planet – The Baja 1000 and Dakar in Saudi Arabia. 

I’ll give you report on my September Race soon – solo the Baja 400 on a motorcycle!

Do YOU DO hard things to test yourself?