Racing

Every year I stand at the start line and realise I've already had my fun. Not here. Not in the 60 seconds ahead of me. The fun was in the year before this. In the late nights. In the torque checks. In the doubts.

People think racing is what happens on the hill. It isn't. The hill is the release. Six minutes. Twelve kilometres. The faster you go, the less you experience.

Spectators see launches. They see slides. They see crashes and trophies. They don't see the year. They don't see the anxiety of the first shakedown. The first corner in anger wondering, did I build this properly? Will it brake? Will it turn?

They see six minutes. I live 365 days. That's why I keep coming back. Because racing isn't the run. It's the preparation.

Racing is life. Everything else is preparation.