Imagination

To bring about something in your life that is not there yet, you need to use your imagination first.  Just this initial act takes courage and belief that you can manifest something that is invisible.  If you don’t believe it’s possible, you won’t spend time thinking about it.

Imagination can be stimulated by stories or seeing what others have done, showing you it’s possible.  This is why I like to live in a world where others are doing better or different than me.

“The world is but a canvas to our imaginations.” Henry David Thoreau

What can you imagine that you can do, be or have?

Life will never be the quite the same.

Victor and Tony arrived at mile 1100.  As Marie and I got in for the last 170 miles, the team checked the car out.  No new problems, but the paper towel/duct tape/zip tie cacoon was fraying and coming apart.  Todd wrapped a washcloth around it and zip-tied it again.  We were off.  It had to last.

First, there were 40 miles of sand whoops – up and down and up and down went our little race car, and I tried not to push it and break the suspension.  

Francisco Arredondo, last year’s winner had broken his hub.  I heard they fixed it after waiting 2 1/2 hours for help but then broke the car again.  We were in fourth place out of 12 in our class, but third was two hours ahead; unless they had a problem, we weren’t catching them.  It made it easy not to worry about them.  We stuck to our plan – don’t race – just finish.  

Other cars in our class were out of the race.  Champion Kristen Matlock, who passed me at mile 20, had broken down, got it fixed and several hours later broke down again.  She was way back but she was moving now.  Tanner told me by text from home that she was catching up and “on the move”.  I babied the car while trying to make miles as fast and smoothly as I could.  I didn’t want to break anything now!

The last section, normally fairly fast, was chewed up far worse than in pre-running.  Marie and I were getting bounced around.  Our necks hurt and our kidneys.  Yes, kidneys, from being strapped tight to a bouncing car for 16 hours.  My sleep deprivation was kicking.  We had started the race 33 hours ago and were awake 6 hours before that.  I actually woke up at midnight before the race and my mind started going and I didn’t sleep much after that.  I had one hour of sleep in the chase truck in the last 48 hours.  

We cut the darkness and forged ahead.  Suddenly we’d see deep ruts with the unmistakable texture of silt.  Silt is the worst condition in Baja.  It’s best described as ultralight dust that acts like water – it yields and “splashes” up into the air..  It can be feet deep.  It swallows even trophy trucks.  If the silt is up to your belly pan it takes the weight off your wheels and you are stuck.  

Going around it is the best option, but often it’s not an option.  I have no time to turn and avoid it, there are no optional routes.  Step on the gas and get as much momentum as you can going in.  The silt leaps into the air blinding us, over the roof, filling every cubic inch of space around and in the car (there is no windshield).  Can’t see a thing – even your own high-powered lights in front.  It’s against your instinct to keep the gas pedal down when you can’t see – but that is exactly what you have to do.  The ruts keep you on course like a slot car.

We made it. Over and over again, as did Todd, Kevin, Tony and Victor at other locations on the course.

There is an epic section called “the Waterfall” on the course.  There is no water involved.  It’s a steep downhill with 4-foot rock ledge drop-offs in it.  When you are on it you know there are about 20 miles to go to the finish.  I kept telling Marie about it and thought it had begun twice when it hadn’t.  it was dark and things look different at night.  But finally, we were on it.  It was unmistakable.

Halfway down, lights bobbed up and down the horizon in front of us.  Was it Kristen Matlock catching up behind us?  I stopped babying the car so much and drove more aggressively to stay ahead.  I have to say, both Marie and I were excited to be “racing” now.  In six more miles, I popped out onto the city road that led into the center of LaPaz.  Flagmen signaled it was safe to come out of the dirt onto the road without looking left and checking for traffic.

It was a 60 mph speed zone but there was local traffic and going 60 was a risk.  I tried.  A few miles to go and there was one big problem – I didn’t know where I was going!  I had not pre-run the last four miles of pavement into the finish. 

Early in the race, at mile 50 I lost my GPS line on the screen.  It turns out the whole course was not loaded into our GPS.  So I drove by memory and the course marker signs for 140 miles. At mile 200 the team took the chip out of the pre-run car and put it into the race car.  But we didn’t have time to go into the menus and change the color of the race line – it defaulted to a black line.  That’s fine when you are in the middle of nowhere – follow the black line.  But in a city, all the streets appeared on the screen and they were black too!  I could not tell by the GPS where the course was!

We sped down the main road looking for a sign, any indication of where to go.  Ahead were cones.  Go left?  Right?  At the last minute as we approached at 55 mph, two policemen looked up and ran to move two cones.  I guessed that race traffic was to go through them.  I darted by looking for the next indication, knowing a race vehicle was on our butt.

Two blocks later I see a flagman – I turn left, then right through a fence.  They had a little dirt track section for drama set up before the finish line for the fans, and I spewed as much dust into the air as I could for effect.  Last turn, checkered flags ahead.  We rolled up onto the podium, lit up in the night. 

Success!

The rest of our team was there waiting and cheering.  We had done it.  Finished the Baja 1000! 1226 miles on four wheels in our first attempt!  Fourth out of 12.  35 hours.  They interviewed us on the podium.  It was a moment we’ll never forget.  

The next day, after a very necessary night’s sleep, we went out for breakfast.  It took 12 hours and included coffee, water, tequila, beer, great seafood, fish tacos, and exciting stories shared.  

Audacious ideas can be crazy.  Not everything I’ve done has worked out.  But if you work smart together, communicate, plan and execute, crazy ideas can be crazy good.

Goal achieved.  Memories made. 

Life will never be quite the same.

"Baja Fab" (Fabrication)

All great adventures start as audacious.  A little crazy.  Maybe a lot crazy. 

Sometimes they prove to actually be crazy.  Unrealistic.  Stupid.  Bad ideas.  Other times….

We had assembled a team of Contractor Nation friends to do this.  The longest point-to-point race on earth.  Marie and I were in the car for a 110-mile leg to mile 1000.  We were all tired.  Ragged even.    But more miles were behind us than we had to go, and an optimism grew in us for finishing.

We went through a tiny town of San Javier where a Spanish Mission church, hundreds of years old was the center of the town.  The only road through town was paved with round cobblestones from the nearby riverbed.  Charming.  But the trophy trucks had torn it up as they made a turn and the round stones were strewn across the street.  A shame, but the people there seemed to be excited the race came through their tiny town and not worried about their romantic street that was torn up.  

We crossed the same riverbed six times; it was as captive as we were in the confines of a canyon.  The course got straight and fast as we sped toward the gas pit at mile 1000.  

When we arrived and were being fueled, some guys did a walk around of our car.  They told me a CV joint boot was ripped open in the back and grease had been flung over the engine.  I thanked them and pulled 200 feet ahead to our chase truck. 

Fans were gathered there in the town of Constitucion.  When we preran we gave stickers out here.  People took days off work just to catch a glimpse of any race vehicle prerunning.  They recognized me from our movies.  Victor had an 8-year-old kid sit in the car for the thrill of his year, as his father took pictures.  

I told Rodrigo, one of our crew, about the torn boot.  In the back where the spinning axle comes out of the rear end, there is a universal joint.  As the wheel goes up and down and spins the joint needs grease so it doesn’t self-destruct.  Now dirt and abrasive silt was getting in and grease was getting out because the rubber boot was torn open.  Could we make it to the finish this way?  226 miles to go.

Rod and another Mexican buggy team spoke about it as they looked it over.  They hatched a plan.  I couldn’t understand Spanish so I watched.  First, they produced a tub of grease.  Rod scooped three big handfuls and smeared it inside the torn boot.  Victor and Tony strapped in inside the car and waited.

Then they took blue paper shop towels, like heavy paper towels and wrapped them around the boot.  I was thinking “there is no way this will work…what the heck are they doing?”.  Then they took duct tape and wrapped strips around the shop towels.  My doubts persisted.  Then they took zip ties and ran them around the duct tape.  It was a cocoon to hold the grease in and keep grit out.  Would it get us to the finish?  We’d find out.

Victor an Tony got the signal – go!  The rest of the team drove to mile 1100 to meet them again in about three hours.  Marie and I ate and got ready for our longest leg of the race – the 170 miles into the finish.

We were grateful for the help from the other team, hoping there was a chance it would work.  I had my doubts.

The next stop had the course coming out to a road after a sand whoop section (rolling waves formed in the sand) that was over 20 miles long.  There were many chase teams there, waiting as darkness settled in.

One more leg – a long one….

Miles behind us…

We waited for Todd and Kevin at mile 890.  The motorcycles started 9 hours before us.  I knew we’d catch up to Ironmen who were struggling at some point.  One came into his truck right in front of us.  It was Darrin Rideout (what a name for a motorcycle rider!).  He was from Ottawa.  46 years old.  His wrist was sprained and black and blue.  His knee was black and blue too.  His lip was swollen and had been bleeding.  

I ran up to him to encourage him.  He couldn’t believe I was there.  My movies had inspired him to come race here, like so many others.  On race week, people know me by sight in Baja.  He perked up and I told him the next 40 miles was the worst part of the whole course.  Just take it one mile at a time and get through it.  Economize – the most speed for the least energy for the terrain he was on.  Once this is over, there’s lots of easier terrain coming.

He was visibly buoyed by my encouragement.  He wanted to take a picture with me.  I was inspired by him.  Seeing an Ironman in this race 890 miles in, spent, in horrible race conditions, and the will to keep going like that – it makes you feel like you’ve got no problems at all.  So inspiring.  

Another ironman went by.  Methodical and beat down.  “Go man. You got this!”

When Kevin and Todd got here, Kevin jumped out of the driver seat and I got in.  Todd stayed in the co-drivers seat.  These next 40 miles were horrible.  The worst part of Baja by far.  Terrain you wouldn’t want to walk.  Deep silt ruts, rocky river beds, and the rockiest choppiest steepest hill climbs with off-camber blind turns at the top – it was not for sissies.  It was to challenge souls.

When we got to Loreto, Todd, who had been in the car for seven hours, was happy to get out.  My kidneys were sore from bouncing and banging up and down and my neck was feeling it too.  Marie got in and we took off.  Two nasty steep hill climbs and 15 minutes later we popped out onto a scenic road with high switchbacks with incredible views of the mountains and Sea of Cortez.  Relief – for now.  God is good.

It was late in the day, and the sun turned and started heading for China.  Darkness was coming again.

Teamwork

When you want to accomplish a task with a team, you have to plan.  We pre ran the course and made our plan.  We adjusted, talked a lot, went over it many times, and had contingency plans if something went wrong.  We knew what our goal was, and what it was not.  We talked about not getting sucked into racing anyone in the excitement of the race, and to stick to our plan – just finish.

Todd and Kevin completely 100 miles and got the car to Victor and Tony.  They completely 100 miles and got the car back to Todd and Kevin.  Marie and I would wait 14 hours from the end of our first turn to the beginning of our second one. 

I was a Baja veteran and had to most experience racing.  Victor was a tour guide and knew the terrain well too.  Kevin, Todd and Marie had experience chasing, but not racing here.  Tony was new to Baja.  You have to use your teams strengths.  I had planned to drive the worst, roughest parts of the course.  

I usually race Ironman and I’m on a bike the whole time.  Being in the chase vehicles was interesting.  Get to the next location (fighting traffic through little towns where the main highway is the only paved road) and wait.  It’s not easy as the hours and days go by and you’re becoming sleep deprived.

You watch other race vehicles go by.  You see dust coming wondering if that’s your team coming.  No.  Nope.  YES!  It them!  Everyone is ready.   New driver and codriver are dressed and waiting.  Two chase team embers unhook the team in the car so they can get out.  Others clean the lights and check the tires and suspension.  New team gets in and get help hooking everything up.  When all looks good, we give the go signal and the driver, who can’t turn their head to see if anyone is coming, steps on the gas, and disappears into their own dust.

It’s pretty cool.

We’d change out drivers ten times, and co-drivers 12 times.  Just as planned.

I jumped in with Marie for the 70 miles before SanIgnacio – very deep and steep sand whoops followed by a very steep rocky hill climb.  This is where I fell into a cactus in the black night one year.  No worry about that now.  (Who is boss now Mr. Cactus!)  This time it was daytime and hot.  We got the car to a military checkpoint where we planned on switching. Todd and Kevin got in again.

An 11-year-old kid was selling coffee in front a lone abandoned building.  I gave him the few pesos and a five-dollar tip.  Timing is everything.

Todd and Kevin had 170 miles to go including a river crossing and some significant rocks to deal with.  We had outfitted our car with an extra-large 30-gallon gas tank so we had an advantage over many in our class.  Still, 170 miles was a lot.  If they missed the gas pit, we’d be in big trouble.

We started the race at 11:30 am.  It got dark.  Now it was light again.

Almost halfway there….

Four wheels, 1226 miles to go…

We were at the starting line with a very long line of race vehicles in front and behind us – 12 of them were our class – Pro UTV N/A (normally aspirated, meaning not a turbo engine).  We had a stock 1000 cc engine, 80 hp and 2300 pounds to move 1226 miles in the 50 hour time limit.  It’s not a lot of power to that weight, but you have to drive it accordingly. 

My girlfriend Marie was in the passenger seat.  This is no easy job.  It’s a rough ride, and motion sickness is a significant threat while looking at the GPS and calling the turns and not knowing how the driver/terrain would throw you around next. 

Marie had not prerun the course with us, and I did not know if she’d adjust well as the hours went by in the heat of the race.  I had planned to drive 150 miles and had a contingency plan where we could switch her out at mile 36, or mile 68, or mile 105.  Each time we got to a road crossing with Victor waiting to switch out with her, she was good and we drove by.  I was impressed!

The start of the race has everyone 30 seconds apart and jockeying through thick dust for position.  We passed last years Baja 1000 champion, Francisco Arredondo, at mile 3 because he thought there was a 60 mph speed limit and there wasn’t.  I topped out at 74 mph, but 10 miles later in narrow switchbacks he was on me with his siren on signalling me to pull over for him to pass.  There was no place to pull over just there and I went forward looking for one.  I guess he was impatient and he nerfed (rear-ended) us to make his point.  I was not happy about this.

Ten more miles later and a previous points Champion, Kristen Matlock came by us.  That’s ok. Our strategy was NOT to race anyone.  If they wanted to pass, let them pass and focus on not breaking the car or making a mistake.  We just wanted to finish. You don’t worry about what happens at mile 20 in a 1226 mile race.  The terrain was a far more formidable challenge to our competition than we were, and we had control over whether we were going to over-ride the course.

We talked about how it would feel if you were the driver who broke the car or crashed it and took us out of the race, and how that would feel on a loooong plane ride home.  Nobody wanted that.  We envisioned pulling into the finish line in LaPaz and all getting finisher medals around our necks.  That was the goal.  It would not matter if we finished 4th or 8th or 12th.  We’d finish in the 50-hour time limit.

I passed a dozen race vehicles broken down; some crashed.  “Not us.  Smooth and smart” I said in my helmet.  To talk to Marie we had radios in our helmets.  All you had to do was talk.  We were dressed in fire suits,  helmets with an air hose connected to them, with a fire skirt around the bottom of the helmet to keep (fire and) dust out.  We were strapped in tight with a five-point harness and neck restraints.  If you have claustrophobia, this is not for you.

When I pulled into mile 150 in about 4 hours, we were in 5th place and ahead of our race plan. We jumped out and Todd Lutinski and Kevin Koval jumped in for their first turn in the car.

So far, so good.  1076 miles to go…

A New Challenge, A New Adventure

On Nov 18-19 I did something with my friends that was bold, high adventure, and exciting.  I decided to have a race car (a UTV) built for racing the Baja 1000, and 5 friends to be on my team.

Long-time subscribers know that the Baja 1000 is the longest off-road race in the world, and I had entered it five times; once as a team with my son n a motorcycle (we won our class in 2015), and five times in a row solo on a motorcycle.  Doing it solo is perhaps the most physically demanding feat in all of motorsports.  I finished twice, but only once in the time limit. 

Two weeks after last years race I had my knee replaced.  I could not train this year due to a knee getting better so I could not race a motorcycle in the Baja 1000, though I was on a 3-man team for the Baja 400 in September and did very well.  The 1000 is a whole different animal.

I had never raced four wheels before.  If I wanted to race the 1000, four wheels promised to be far easier physically, and would not hurt my knee.  In April I made the decision.  I found the best guy to build a race machine.  We started out with a stock Honda Talon, 1000cc, four seats, and transformed it to an able race machine.

The roll cage was reinforced, the suspension completely redone, bigger wheels, removed the rear seats to ut a big gas tank in, doors welded shut, radios and Lowrance GPS installed, racing seats with five point harnesses, removable steering wheel, fire supression system, and on and on.

My goal was to make great memories with friends with an adventure we’d never forget and just finish the race.  UTV’s can break on the rugged Baja terrain, and our goal was to not break ours and just finish.  The course this year was the second-longest in Baja 1000 history – 1226 miles.  A big challenge.

My team were my friends Kevin Koval from Albany NY area, Tony Hafford from southern Maine, Todd Lutinski from the Boston area, Victor Abitia from Tijuana area and my significant other Marie who would ride as navigator when I was driving.

I had never driven a race car like this and didn’t know how, so I wormed my way into the passenger seat with Jamie Campbell in the Vegas to Reno race this summer.  It was a rude awakening.  Riding in the passenger seat is scary.  You keep saying in your helmet “You got this right?….RIGHT???  Then you get motion sickness and want to puke.  Even the pros do.  (So I recruited Marie to do this for me! lol) (Wow that sounds bad…keep reading).

After months of preparation, we met to prerun the course.  We had a different machine to pre-run, since you don;t want to beat up your race car just before the race. The distance is like riding off-road from New York to Miami.  It FAR.  It took four days to get there when we pre ran it.  In the process, a rim split when Victor and Tony were driving, and a steering tie rod came off when Todd and Kevin were in it.  We persisted and got all the way back to the starting line to make preparations for the start of the race.  Marie joined us then.

We went through registration and tech inspection, and did all the things we needed to do to prepare.  We had three chase trucks – a bigger chase crew than normal for four wheels.  I was in it now.  I came to appreciate the simplicity of racing a motorcycle.

I was supposed to start the race on the 500x motorcycle team at 2 am, race 65 miles for that team, and get a ride back to the starting line to get our race car in staging at 8:30 am.  It turned out the 500x team recruited a total of 7 riders and were not short-handed anymore, so I did not start for them.  Good thing.  The race time limit was 50 hours and I needed all the sleep I could get before it started.

I was at the starting line with Marie, finally waiting for the 30 seconds since the car ahead of us launched into the race, for our light to turn green.

That’s when it all really started….

How would you treat a Million-Dollar Racehorse?

This is an old question but it does stimulate some great thinking.  Last week we talked about how you present yourself to the world.  A few thought the idea was flawed, but how you value (take care of) yourself tells the world a lot about who you are and what they can expect from you.

How much are you worth to you?

If you had a million-dollar racehorse how would you treat it?  Would you feed it junk food?  Would you let it rest all day every day?  Would you work it all day long to exhaustion?  Would you give it beer or wine?

It makes us think about how we treat ourselves.  The time to think about that is now, not when we have a disease or when we realize our life is shortened by our habits. 

How do you treat the priceless you?

Don't give your power away!

When we make excuses or blame others we are exempting ourselves from personal accountability.  It may make us feel better, but we don’t think about how we can do better and avoid mistakes in the future.  

Sure sometimes others played a part in a negative situation, but it’s how we interacted with them and the situation that lead to the ultimate outcome.  Giving ourselves a way out of responsibility by blaming leads to a victim mentality.  

When we say “They are to blame” then we are giving our power away to those same people. We are saying they have power over this area of my life and I don’t.  We become a victim.  

Don’t give your power away by blaming or making excuses.

Instead, ask “what could I have done to avoid the situation or make it better?”.  Take responsibility, even if you made a mistake. 

When you say “I am responsible”, you now have your power back – and with that, you can do amazing things.

Crying?

Crying?  Look in the mirror.  

It’s impossible to cry when you look in the mirror.

What do you see?  

A wimp or a fighter?