No Braking (Life Lesson #1)

My article on the Nürburgring put me in a racetrack headspace last week. I talked to my sons about how and where to do some simulated/video game driving of the Nordschleife to be familiar with it before my trip next year (a helpful suggestion from one of my readers), and I added some Autocross dates to my calendar for the summer. At the same time, I was also in the throes of the first draft of an assignment for a three-month writer’s course I am taking. The challenge? To write my manifesto or a series of “I Believe” statements. I sat down to hammer out a fast stream-of-consciousness list to get started and when I re-read what I wrote, I was surprised (but shouldn’t have been) how many of my “I believes” were written in car language and were based on things I have learned from driving the Blue Car.

An example? Right there in the middle of my list was this sentiment:

When you make a commitment to do something, especially if it may be hard or scary, adequately prepare for it, and then do it. Don’t back out, don’t question yourself. Your best hope in succeeding is keeping your eye on your goal and being consistent with follow through.

Except that isn’t what I wrote. My quick scribble said:

I believe we should prepare for the sharp turns in life as best we can and then enter the curves with our foot steady on the gas, fully confident we are ready for the challenge.

I could have added more to that statement. Slow down before entering the curve. Know your racing line. Avoid braking while in the curve. Keep your hands steady on the wheel. Steer smoothly. Once past the apex, start accelerating.

All of it boils down to something simple yet profound: be prepared, trust yourself, and follow through. The rewards are numerous: accomplish something challenging, be proud of yourself, stay in control, don’t spin out and crash.

The first time I took a tight curve at a higher speed than I thought possible in Autocross, I remember feeling the force pulling the Blue Car in a direction I did not want to go, hearing the tires squeal, and wanting desperately to slow the car quickly. In my head I was saying over and over, “don’t brake, don’t brake,” until I felt that force lighten its grip and knew I was past the hard part as I put my foot down on the gas to accelerate out of the turn. I loved that part of it all: I felt like I was flying in car and spirit. I had done it!

When I first started driving the Blue Car like this, understanding what it (and I) could do, the instinct to brake was so strong it took all my willpower to keep my foot on the gas. And even though I am past that braking instinct now, I still have this lift of spirit when I start accelerating out of the turn.

That’s why this “I believe” made it to my list. I can’t think of how many times I have started something really difficult or scary and wanted to just hit the brakes and walk (or run) away. “I’m sorry, there must have been some mistake. I didn’t agree to give this speech.” Or how many times I almost didn’t even start something. “Apply to graduate school now, with a two-year-old?” Oh, the list can go on and on. But by refraining from hitting the brakes, it’s a celebration every single time: I did it, I learned something new, I made it through the tight curve.

I won’t pretend I have always refrained from hitting that brake pedal. That would be a lie. There have been job offers, relationships, and all kinds of opportunities and endeavors where the curve seemed too tight, my faith in myself or the situation was weak, and I hit the brakes. But one good thing that comes with age (there have to be good things, right?) is the same thing that comes from doing those tight curves over and over again. Brakes are not the first thing on my mind anymore. I think about the racing line – what’s the best way to get where I want to be? I think about a smooth and confident ride. And I always aim for the celebration and the joy as I accelerate after the apex.

Celebration and joy.