When I take the perfect corner, those white strips of paint, mixed with a dash of red in between reflect off the visor of the helmet, I blush inside my helmet. It is that feeling one would get when one holds their crush's hand for the first time. And when the throttle is pulled to its limit, gently at first, to be violently pulled as the apex goes away and another imaginary line becomes visible - It is a fine dance; With speed, precision and lady luck.
A lot of people have asked me (and to many other racers and racing enthusiasts in general) how fast we go on the racetrack. I think they believe that going around the race track is an experience of going fast. It is indeed about going fast around the racetrack. As racers, we all talk about a tenth here, or a tenth elsewhere, time periods which are inconsequential to most normal people. But for us, it is the difference between a pole lap, or, as it is now in the modern Moto GP era, languishing at the bottom of the time sheets.
But is it really an experience in going fast? Well, in some ways it is. To the outside world and the audience, it definitely is. But to the rider, the brain behind the visor of the helmet, it can be the other way around. It is a sensation of slowing down time to do our will. One can imagine going around a corner at over 150KMPH as being scarily fast. Leaned over, knees to asphalt, head tucked out and body aft off the bike, it indeed can be scary and fast. But get them right, and it is a very different experience. You can count the white and red boxes that mark the end of the track and the beginning of the kerbs. Time comes to a near standstill and everything goes into slow motion.
It is a fine dance; a dance with speed, precision and lady luck.
On the straights, where speeds go in excess of 180kmph in places, I consciously remember licking the sweat off my lips and tasting the salty flavour, before it is time to steer myself into position for the next turn, the next apex. A lot of things that I would not usually see become visible when I am hurtling myself on a motorcycle at these speeds - that slight line across the tarmac, or that dark patch of tarmac, that particular anomaly on the runoff, all these being indications as to where to start turning into the corner, become visible.
How can you notice these things if you are actually going fast?
Time slows down. It is like break dance in slow motion. In our minds are things that happen which normal people do not understand. We process information faster, and see much more things than would be visible. We have to. Our lives depend on it.
I guess you could say that we go fast to slow down time.
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