Autocross Mind Training

This is how you train your mind to ignore distractions.

One of the best times of the day. Go figure.

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The Potential of Ritual

Apathy and lassitude are the stepchildren of nihilism.

That's probably why I am writing instead of doing. I should be in central Montana enjoying 2 bargain priced track days. Granted, the venue is not a real track. It's a two lane closed loop used by the state for training purposes. It's a five hour drive from home.

I explained this all to my wife when she asked why I wasn't going. She pointed out that it was what I had, the best option that was available this weekend. I hate it when she uses better than nothing logic.

But, I still didn't go. I was too busy being lazy and apathetic.

Finally, I managed to stir up enough energy to take a bike ride; the kind of bike you have to pedal. The first ride in two weeks. That's usually a signal that I have managed to flip the switch towards taking action to subdue the twin stepchildren.

30 minutes into the ride a combination of endorphins and conditioned psychological response takes over creating a counterforce to apathy and lassitude. Of course, it's too late to load up and go. That's why I'm writing instead of driving today.

But, I just finished another bike ride. It was windy. I hate the wind. Ask any bicyclist and they will tell you that a headwind sucks. I would rather climb a hill any day. You can see a hill, how steep it is, where it ends.

A headwind is invisible, deceiving.

But, once you have a headwind, you might as well tilt the road.

I ride my bicycle in a loop. It's a ritual. When it's windy, half the time there's a headwind.

The headwind was annoying today. I bitched to myself about the headwind. But, I managed to continue pedaling, finished the loop and predictably the counter balance to apathy and lassitude gained a bit more strength.

I think that's because when I started the wind was at my back.

A Disturbance in the Force

I think anytime you can resurrect Nietzsche in a conversation, you probably should.

After a challenging week dealing with the tribe (to Nietzsche the "tribe" represented the collective set of norms that one was called on to conform to) and several rather irritating tribal members, I found myself sitting in my racing sim rig on a Friday evening looking for a rhythm to develop while running lap after lap on a new track. That rhythm was proving difficult to find, partly due to the 16 ounce Scotch Ale I had guzzled earlier hoping to calm some of the ambient irritation that had pervaded the week.

But, finding that rhythm promised to be as much a salve to ease the week's quota of irritation as the beer that was proving to be a contributor to the difficulty in finding it. Sometimes, muddling the senses a bit too much can be counter productive. Moderation is everything (or maybe everything in moderation.)

Eventually, over the course of about two hours, a rhythm began to develop.

Maybe the alcohol began to wear off.

Maybe, the repetition began to pay off.

But, as the mental image of the track became clearer, the braking points became more consistent and the racing line began to gel, the effort to maintain the rhythm grew less and less. The internal mantra of the lap became stronger and stronger and the beginnings of a calm replaced the irritation.

I honestly don't know whether that calm represents a distraction from a day to day reality - or a return.

But, I do know I got faster and faster in my simulated reality.

Labor Day Revelation

I have to admit that I am somewhat of a nihilist. Actually, I don't think "somewhat" is entirely accurate; it's more likely wishful thinking.

I find myself from time to time willing to crack the door open a bit and embrace the notion that the enjoyment of a shared experience and appreciation of a common interest argues against my usual pessimistic outlook.

One such occasion came this weekend - a two day autocross event with my local club.

For two days a group of folks who otherwise might rarely intermingle come together because of a shared interest in driving as quickly as possible through a sea of orange cones. The event starts with a parking lot; a blank slate that is transformed into a maze representing the challenge that we will set ourselves upon over the next few days. Out of nothing, we create a shared goal.

The first few runs are tentative. Slowly, each participant learns how to navigate the challenge and the group learns what will define the scope of the task for the day as the times are posted for each run. Tire pressures are tweaked. Strategies are developed and refined. The optimal racing line becomes clearer with each successive run.

And, throughout the day a sense of camaraderie develops as each participant focuses on the spontaneously created quest, testing their ability to adapt and improve, measuring themselves against each other.

The ambient chatter is constant. Is the course good or bad? Does the course flow well? What line to take through such and such turn? What's for lunch?

The seasoned teach and show, the inexperienced watch, listen and learn. Tires squeal and smoke. The stench of brake and clutch is heavy in the air. Numbers accumulate on the grid laid out on the whiteboard.

Finally, the noise stops. The accidental community gathers around the tally board. The meaning of the numbers is discussed and debated. What could have been is bemoaned. What will happen in the future is speculated upon.

Orange cones are collected, stacked and stored.

The parking lot is once again a parking lot.