Just waiting on you…

A great life…a better life…adventure…excitement…love…joy…

it’s just waiting on you…

Doubt is the enemy

The number one thing holding you back is your own doubt and disbelief in your ability.

In most cases, the only reason you can’t is because you think you can’t.

When it comes to what is really important to you and what you really want, doubt is not allowed.

Fantastic Visions

Dream.

It’s ok.

It’s necessary.

You have to see it before you can do it or be it.

Giving yourself a chance

Getting in the game is not about taking a chance. 

It’s about giving yourself one.

African Dust – Rally du Moroc – part 9

I wake up a bit early.  I get up and assess my condition.  I feel better!  I take a shower.  I feel good.  The aches and pains are gone!  The demon has left my body!  I can race today!  Wow!  I get suited up.  Hold on there big fella – I’m not ok -but better.  I think I can do it.  I take the dramamine and the diarrhea meds early.  I go to breakfast.  They are excited to see me.  It’s on!

I learned that because I started yesterday but didn’t finish, I’m still in the rally.  I just got a huge penalty – something like 16 hours.  So now I just want to see how I can do today and just finish the rally.  In Dakar, I’d be out.  But here the rules are different and I am still in!

We start near last at 11:54am since we did not finish the day before.  But the liason is only 40 km today and the special (dirt race part) is 309 km, or 192 miles.  The course was fast and we never stopped.  We made some passes.  Lots of guys broke their cars – but not us.  This is where we’d be catching up in the overall standings if we had not missed a day. 

We finish 19^th of 38!  Consistent and getting better.  I feel even better at the end of the race day than at the beginning.  I am reborn!  I eat a big meal.  Rokas won the championship yesterday, but broke his car today.  So did the factory Can Am team.  They fixed them and finished. 

Day ten of the trip was the last Stage – Stage 5.  We had a 120 km liaison and a 279 km special.  One hour before we had to get in the car I start feeling sick again.  I was sweating and really worried.  I got in the car.  The whole process was getting routine now.  Less stress. 

The course was very fast today.  We were at 100 km an hour for much of it.  Only one car passed us all day.  Rokas broke his car again today.  We passed about 12 UTV’s that were broken.  Often they miss a rain rut and go in hard and break a wheel or suspension part.  70 km from the finish we hear a bang in the front end.  Bruno thinks it’s the front wheel drive.  We switch to two-wheel drive and go on. 

Today we finish 18^th – our best yet!  We cross the finish line at the bivouac and, to my relief, they award us finisher medals.  I felt like I earned that one. 

Bruno and I sit down at the South Racing tent and crack our first beer of the trip.  But I couldn’t finish it.  I was exhausted and my stomach was still not right.

Many thanks to Bruno – I couldn’t do it without him.  And I gratefully acknowledge South Racing and the entire team.  It was one of the most impressive businesses I’ve ever experienced.  They truly went out of their way to give a stranger and great experience in the wilds of Northeast Africa.  Also thanks to Braulio, Tomas, Francisco, AnnMarie, Anna, and the rest of the team.

My stomach has PTSD when I hear the word “Morocco”.  The effects lasted for ten more days after I got home.  I think it was food poisoning. 

Who would have thought a poor kid from Bridgeport Connecticut would wind up finishing this epic race in this epic place?  Nobody.  Except the kid – and that’s all that matters.

Who would think you would ________________________________ ?

You?

Rally du Moroc.  It wasn’t easy.  But I did it, and I have the memory the rest of my life – or at least as long as I have my memory!

African Dust – Rally du Moroc – part 8

Day 8 of the trip.  Stage three today.  But at 3am before my day started I woke up sweating.  Something was wrong.  Soon I was on the toilet.  Then I was yawning into it in technicolor.  I’d hope it was over and done and went back to bed.  Nope.  This process repeated itself many times until 8 am.  I get up, and I know I am in deep trouble.

I manage to get my gear on and go to breakfast.  I have my head down on the table.  I can’t sit up.  I take Dramamine.  One of the guys has diarrhea meds.  I take those.  I lay down on the ground.  I am being attacked from within.  I wonder if my being sick on day one was motion sickness or the prologue of this same enemy. 

I can’t.  Today there are even bigger dunes.  Ok, but I can’t even sit up.  I can’t even drive on asphalt.  In Dakar, if you don’t finish a stage, you are out of the rally.  We were sitting in 20^th place overall in our class, and because I had not broken the car and was consistent, we were catching up each day in the overall standings.

I think about how I must get in that car and be there for eight hours to continue.  But I will surely be sick as a dog and need a bathroom many times in the middle of nowhere.  I am already getting dehydrated as I can’t eat or drink anything.

I am sick, and heartbroken.  We made the call. 

I get in the car with Bruno.  We get the green and drive out of the bivouac onto the paved road.  This was to be the last day at this bivouac.  This stage was not a loop but a one-way northeast to another bivouac.  The pit crews would all pack up and take a five-hour drive on the road to set up at the next location while their race vehicles were out on course. 

I go a quarter mile and pull over in front of the small RV South Racing had.  I get out and climb into the RV.  Bruno gets in the driver’s seat of our car.  I lay down in the RV and try to sleep but I can’t.  First it’s 100 degrees in there and the AC is not working.  Second there are 20 flies in the RV and they keep landing on my face every 10 seconds.  I try to cover up but it’s 100 degrees.  I am swatting and cursing the flies for five hours, sick as a dog.

When we get to the Mengoub bivouac they take me to the medic tent.  I get an IV and two bags of fluid.  I have aches and pains and my breath is hot like I am getting a fever.  My neck hurts really bad.  The French doctor tells me to drink Coca-Cola.  I figure he doesn’t know what he’s doing.  When I get out of there I find my tent and go to bed early.

Ted and I decided I’m so sick that I’d sit out stage four tomorrow too, and rest up for a nice finish on stage five.  I’d be out, and heartbroken that I came all this way not to finish.  I’m not a quitter.  But I did my best. 

African Dust – Rally du Moroc – part 7

I can endure tired.  I can endure hurt.  But dizzy and nauseous?  That’s not about being tough.  I wake up sick still.  I go to breakfast.  Andrew slaps down a box of Dramamine he got from Bradley Cox – a up and coming contender and points leader.  I went on a dirt bike tour with Bradley’s famous father Alfie Cox in South Africa some years ago.  He says take two.  At breakfast I have my head down on the table.  I am scared of the dunes and how they will make me sick again.

It’s time to climb in the car for Stage two of five.  In these rally’s, you start the stage right from the bivouac at a given time.  For example 10:43.  Then you have a “liason”.  The liason is on paved road and it is NOT timed.  This day we had to drive on pavement for two hours to get to the dirt section.  Here you had to start again at a given time and you better be there.  That is called the “Special test” and it is timed.  At the end of the “Special test” you have another liason back to the bivouac that could be as long as two hours or more.  It’s along day strapped in the car.

This day they decided to take the windshield out so I could have wind in my face and air flowing.  Maybe that would help me not get sick.  Well, it was a great idea!  And just as we started the special test after a two hour liason, the Dramamine kicked in and I started feeling better. 

I am driving really well.  I am getting used to what Bruno means when he calls the turns and dangers, and he’s getting used to my driving and starting to trust me. 

Here come the dunes.  I am ready this time.  Today, these dunes are mine.  I figure out how to attack them and crest them sideways at the peaks.  We even make some passes in the dunes.  I am excited!  I know that there will be more dunes, and many dunes in Dakar, and I now know I can do it!

We finish 22^nd today.   I get back to the bivouac and the South Racing team approaches the car to see if I am green or not.  When they see my smile they are relieved.  High fives all around.  We crushed it today!

I eat dinner, brush my teeth and go to bed in my tent.  But my sleep was interrupted by an highly unwelcome visitor…

African Dust – Rally du Moroc – part 6

Day 6.  We got the green flag at 10:40 am.  We started 26^th of 38 based on our Prologue finish. I felt good in the car for the first hour or two – I don’t recall how long it was.  Then they appeared.  Dunes.  Big sand dunes.  As we got in farther they got bigger – as tall as ten-story buildings.  I knew they were coming, and I thought I’d have fun in them.  But I wasn’t fully prepared.

They were steep.  You had to commit because they were soft.  Full throttle to the top.  If you let off you’d get stuck.  BUT, as you come to the crest you couldn’t see over the other side.  Sometimes they are almost straight down on the other side.  The crest wiggles like a snake – sometimes tighter than you expect and sometimes the other way – you can’t see until you are going over.  It’s unnerving. 

You have to let off the throttle enough not to get any air going over because you could easily flip your car end over end all the way down the other side.  But you can’t let off too much because you’ll get stuck in the soft sand.  Then you both have to get out and start digging.  Good luck with that.

The dunes were other-worldly.  A undulating environment of tan curves.  When you are in the bowl it’s easy to become disoriented.  It was very hot.  I am nervous.  Bruno is giving me orders.  I’m sweating.  I’m strapped into this very loud vibrating car in a monkey suit.  The windshield is blocking any airflow to me.  The only exposed skin was part of my face anyway.  I’m hot.  I’m getting dizzy.  Scared of flipping the car. 

We are searching for a hidden waypoint in these dunes.  If we miss it we get an hour penalty.  We have to backtrack.  Bruno points.  We are in virgin sand – no tracks.  It’s hot.  I’m dizzy.  I’m nauseous.  If there is one thing I hate in life is throwing up – and the feeling that preceeds it.  But I’m there.  I start making strange moans.  I can’t deny it.

Bruno says “Larry, what is the matter?!”  It’s loud and we are bobbing in the dunes like a boat on rough seas.  “I’m gonna puke!”  Good thing I have an open-face helmet I thought, though I’d fill my microphone with puke. I guess Bruno would hear what that sounds like…

At first he tells me to stop and take a moment.  I do.  But I know there is only one way out of here – and that is to keep going.  I know I have to face it and I don’t want to prolong it.  I start moving again.  I’m moaning again.  I’m really dizzy. 

Bruno, probably fearing  that if I puke while I’m driving I’d not be paying attention and be risking his life, tells me to stop.  We’re looking up at sand in all directions.  He yells “Get out of the car!”  I do.  He meets me on the drivers side and yells “Put your finger down your throat and throw up!”  I know that’s the only way I am going to get through this.  I try.  Nothing.  I try again.  Not much.  I can’t do it.  Damn!

It may have only been four minutes or so – or ten.  I don’t know.  Bruno was prepared to drive the car out of there, but sitting in the passenger seat I knew, would make things much worse.  I climbed back in and strapped up.  I had to go.  I had to get through this. 

The dunes seemed like they’d never end.  They went on for 30 kilometers.  I’m moaning again.  I hate this.  Why did I come here?  This sucks.  Really sucks.  The dunes get smaller.  Mercifully they end and were back to hard dusty desert wasteland.  But this kind of feeling doesn’t just go away.  I’m fighting nausea the rest of the race.  We finish 26^th of 38 – just how we started.  So in net, nobody passed us – that’s good.

We get back to the bivouac and I am sick.  The veteran racers are not surprised.  They tell me it’s common.  Andrew Short says he has to take Dramamine – a double dose or he’d get sick in the dunes too. 

I go to bed motion sick.  I’m in bad shape.  Stage two tomorrow.  There will be the same dunes as we are doing a similar loop but backwards.  I am dreading it.  Seriously dreading it….

African Dust – Rally du Moroc – part 5

It was day 6 of our trip.  Today the race started with the “Prologue”.  I was a bit nervous.  It was about to get real and I didn’t want to make any mistakes.  I didn’t quite understand the prologue.  It was flowed by 5 long stages, but the prologue itself was only 25 kilometers.  That’s nothing.  Why?

There was two classes of UTV’s.  SSV was the “slower class”, and the class I was in, “Challenger”, was the top fastest class.  There were 38 cars in my class.  At the starting line they were letting cars go every minute.  Like any desert it was very dusty.  In places where the wind didn’t blow the dust off well from the guy ahead of you it was hard to see the ground.

I went wide on a few turns.  Bruno was telling me to brake earlier.  But sometimes it was a matter of seeing the turn to determine what was early.  It went by in a flash – maybe 18 minutes.  With only a few kilometers to go we came upon this Toyota Hilux limping along.  We were in his dust in a rocky river wash.  Bruno was telling me to “go!”, but I couldn’t see the ground.  I obeyed.  Bang!  We hit something – a big rock no doubt.  I didn’t see it. 

Soon Bruno says we have a right rear flat.  We decided to ride it out two kilometers to the finish.  If we stop now to change it in a 25 km race, we finish last.  We cross the finish line 26^th out of 38.  How you finish in the Prologue doesn’t mean much.  It just determines your starting order for the next day – Stage 1.  Bruno changes the tire and we take the road back to the stadium parking lot. 

This time, there are no pop-up tents, no seats, and most of the trucks and pit equipment are gone. We have a five-hour bus ride to the first bivouac.  A bivouac means temporary living quarters/tent/camping…I’ve never been to one.  We left at 1:30 pm from Marrakesh.

The rest of the race we’d be staying at two different camps in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  I figured out why the short prologue was five hours from the serious long-distance racing.  To do these races you need permission from the government – the king.  The king wants something going on in the populated areas to showcase the race.  The race promoter needs buildings for registration and tech inspections, etc.  So they set everything up in the parking lot of the stadium and do the prologue nearby, until they leave town for the parched wasteland and dunes where most of the racing miles take place.

Morocco had had heavy rains in the last few weeks and roads were washed out.  The bus trip may take a little longer than five hours they said.  We climbed the swithcbacks of the Atlas mountains  for a crossing.  It was beautiful.  At high elevation there were some pine trees.  Below that – no vegetation at all.

We see some lightning off in the distance.  Hours pass and there’s stopped traffic ahead in a small town.  Mostly a stalled out parade of race vehicles.  I see a car carrier with all the South Racing race cars on it including mine.  It turns out there was two feet of water rushing across the road a couple miles ahead and they closed the road – the only one to where we were going.  We get out and walk ahead to see if we can what is going on.  The sun sets.  Finally the traffic starts crawling.  Back into the little bus.  When we crossed the water it was still 5 inches deep and flowing pretty good.

The five-hour trip took 11 hours.  It was 12:30 am when we rolled in to the bivouac.  Race teams were setting up their pits.  We schlepped our bags through the pits to a enclave of tents and oriental rugs – a thousand of them I think-laid out in the dirt and rocks.  First a big courtyard where they’d serve food with tables where you could eat.  That would double as a place for driver meetings each night.

Walk through that into aisles between endless tents set up.  There weren’t just any tents.  They were legit “Arabian Nights” kinds of tents.  Inside them there were carpets on the dirt and elaborate Arabic designs on the ceiling and walls.  We had a “luxury” tent.  It had a toilet, and sink, and a shower – all separated by fancy curtains.  Yes, hot water.  For the drains  they just dug holes in the ground and let the drain water soak in.  The beds were real beds – comfortable. 

It’s late – get some sleep – the real race starts tomorrow…

African Dust – Rally du Moroc – part 4

It was Saturday.  The race starts tomorrow.  Today we shaved my helmet foam down so it didn’t cause me stress fractures in my skull, practiced changing a flat tire, and sat down for a barbeque for the whole South Racing team – all 55 people in the South Racing pit.

It turns out there were some interesting people driving the other cars.  Andrew Short, the ex motocross racer I had watched on tv racing for years was the co-driver for the Can Am Factory car.  Rokas was from Lithuania and was the season points leader of the four race series.  All he had to do was finish relatively well and he’d win the season points championship.  Chaleco Lopez was from Chile and was a real contender in the points race.  Two guys from the Netherlands were rally racers who were racing in the dirt this time.  There was a father and son from the US in two different cars. 

As the days passed we shared stories and bonded over the whole experience.  It’s funny how going through challenging circumstances together can do that.

One more afternoon until the race.  We decided to go to the souk – the marketplace in the center of Marrakesh.  It’s a crazy place.  Crowded.  Shops and stands selling all kinds of things in narrow alleys and courtyards.  Hustlers.  We were warned about pickpockets more than once.  There was a snake charmer playing a flute-like instrument and a cobra – a real cobra standing up.  If you took your phone out to take a picture they’d rush you and tell you they want money for the picture.

We walked, and walked, and walked.  Narrow alleys full of people – but it didn’t stop scooters and motorcycles from driving in the alleys.  People stepped aside trying not to get run over.  When we’d seen enough we caught a taxi back to our resort.  I got to sleep at 9pm.  Little did I know things were about to change in every way.