Track Day

    Yesterday was my first taste of driving Portland International Raceway. I am still processing everything. Being behind the wheel of a decently accoutered Subaru, easy to drive, automatic transmission, responsive acceleration made it easier to focus on the track itself, and not on managing the car. The downside was the Subie's suspension giving the ride a bit of a boat-on-the-ocean feel, especially from the passenger side. The result? You guessed it: Motion Sick. The first three laps Jeff drove, giving me a comprehensive running description of each turn and straight, but my rebellious stomach made it difficult to fully absorb what I was hearing, seeing, and feeling. I take that back, I was feeling every wow, G-Force, and acceleration. Then I got behind the wheel, and felt better. It is much easier to handle the motion when you are somewhat in control of the situation. I admit, it was epic, and not nearly as nerve-wracking as I was expecting. Feeling the car dive into a tight corner, accelerating through, hearing the tires sing, hitting the back stretch and punching the accelerator is a rush. Granted, my stomach was still reminding me that it was unhappy. Driving a race track is far more difficult than one would think, especially a track like P.I.R which is not an oval of only left turns, it is a series of corners, right and left, tight and flowing, and very technical.
    I drove six laps, then Jeff took the wheel again to teach me some of the finer points. The downside of this, my mildly annoyed stomach suddenly began to protest violently. I could not focus on anything but not losing my breakfast at high speed. The third lap, as we pulled into the pits, all I could say was, "I am going to throw up." Being the sympathetic sort, Jeff didn't chastise me, just helped me find the door handle which I could not find in my fumblings, and said, "Over the rail," as I staggered out. I didn't hurl, happy to say. I did gag, and fight the retching though, then just leaned over the rail, using sheer force of will to not spew green smoothie onto the grass. Even in my misery I was thinking, "Next time, smaller breakfast, and Dramamine." I was not going to let my weakness keep me from getting back on the track and learning to drive. Jeff had a point, "Sometimes Grand Adventures involve throwing up." I have done hard workouts that brought me close to the point of dry heaves, this is no different. Well, maybe it is a little different, but I won't let it stop me.
    I have to confess, I was disappointed with myself. I thought I would take to track driving more naturally. I thought my ability to slice through corners on my motorcycle would transfer to a car. But it is very different. Add in my rebellious stomach, the motion sickness that has seemed to plague me more frequently these days than ever before, and I felt as if I had failed myself. As if Body failed me when I needed it to be solidly behind Brain. The nausea dampened down my exuberance to the point that there was not the sense of victory that I had anticipated. But you know what? I don't care. I don't care that I actually cried because of my failings. I will go back, Dramamine patch in place, stomach mostly void of food, I will remember what I learned, and I will rock the course. It is a learning curve, like anything else. I will learn, practice, let Brain and Body assimilate the lessons learned. Next time, I will rock the course, or at the very least, not have dry heaves.