The Race For Life

It was over as soon as it had begun. And when it’s done, you are more thankful you survived than you are grateful for the ride. Then, the adrenaline finally kicks in. Where was this, you wonder, when you were hitting the limit along the last straight, slicing your way through turn after turn, with your ass in your hands and your hands in the hands of the gods.

It would have been nice to have felt it a little earlier, you think to yourself. And now, as your machine stands deadly still on the tarmac, a million thoughts rush at you; all of them racing through you head at a million miles an hour.

People tell you it’s when you are closest to death that you feel the most alive. But after an experience like that, you realize it’s when you feel most alive that you see how close death can be. That’s probably why it’s so addictive. After all, isn’t the fear of death arguably the biggest driver of life?

Looking back at the burnt rubber laid down from your run gives you an instant reminder of your achievement. It’s a war wound that you’ve just carved on the face of old uncle death. For this time, at least, you’ve won the fight against his ever-present persistence towards your life. But with time, these achievements will wash away, and another round will need to unfold.

You see it’s not for the thrill, the glory, or the fame, that you race. It’s to reassure yourself that you are still alive and in control. Because only once you come that close to death, do you realize how far from living your life you are.