04/03/2026
The first RMRA race of the season ended up being one of the most satisfying days of my life, but you won’t guess why.
My results were p**s poor. I jumped into new classes this year. The amateur classes. And got my ass handed to me. Finishing last in both classes for the day made me wonder if I needed to reconsider my choices.
But more on that later.
The reason my race day was so satisfying… I finally worked up the testicular fortitude to hit the two big triples on the track.
Now lots of tracks have triples that are pretty easy to hit. But this was Thunder Valley MX. It’s one of the most famous tracks in the national pro series circuit for a reason.
So these weren’t your ordinary triples. They are so big they have names: the elevator (or catapult) and the whopper.
The elevator is a massive step up triple. When you approach it, your approaching it from the bottom of a pit and looking up the face of the jump, you see nothing but sky.
To say it’s intimidating is an understatement.
But in my 3rd moto of the day, I had decided that if I didn’t try it, I would go home feeling completely like a loser.
So what did I do?
Coming out of the corner I grabbed 2nd gear as I dropped into the big hole before the elevator. As I approached the jump, I did something I don’t do very often.
As an engineer, I constantly think about things. My wife constantly has to tell me not to over analyze things.
Well this time I had to forcefully shut my brain off. I severed the connection between my frontal cortex and my right wrist.
And held her wide.
For the first half second after you leave the lip, you still just see sky.
Then you start looking for the landing.
About halfway through my flight I finally was able to restart my brain and calculate my trajectory. And that was when I knew…
That I was going to make it.
As I landed just a few feet short of the downside, I felt an overwhelming sense of calm.
I now knew that it is possible. That I can do it.
But I wasn’t done.
On the next lap I made sure to get in the throttle just a hair sooner.
Again after seeing nothing but sky for that numbing half second, I saw where the landing was.
And completely greased it. I couldn’t have landed more perfectly.
My dad watching from the fence audibly cussed “F*** yeah!” Because he knew what it meant to me.
You might think that’s where the story ends, but I still had the whopper. In the next and final moto, I knew what I had to do.
This was 450B and it was the class where due to a lack of proper equipment, not practicing starts, and being an average of 10 years older then the rest of the field, I was not only smoked off the start, but through the entire moto.
So really that meant the pressure was off of me.
And I had one simple goal that moto.
Hit. The. Whopper.
I didn’t know it at the time, but the whopper is a longer jump than the elevator. I don’t know the measurements, but I do know that 2nd gear wide open doesn’t launch you as far.
But it was close enough!
It’s a similar situation where the jump face is a massive 30 foot wall that makes you stare at the heavens.
But this time when I landed, I only landed on top of the forgiving landing, not quite downsiding it.
Close enough!
So while I didn’t finish well, I can now sleep soundly knowing that I was brave (or stupid) enough to do these massive jumps.
Which is ironic because even two nights later I find it hard to sleep because I keep replaying it in my head.
