Page 44 of Send It
Colson
After we get everything set up at the campsites, Reiss and I walk the track. We don’t talk about anything but racing. Both of us are hyperaware that this could be the last time we come to Amateur Nationals.
We’ve both qualified every year since we were thirteen and now the idea of winning and going pro is more like a reality. It will make all the days spent training and the countless hours traveling to different tracks worth it.
I want that for Reiss, he deserves it more than anyone. He’s tough, he’s fast, and soon he’d prove it to all the haters. I have no doubt that he will, but part of me wonders if Lincoln will beat him.
She rode great at East Bend and if she rides like she did that day, there’s a real chance that she ends up on the podium.
The one advantage Reiss will have is physicality.
The heat will definitely be a factor but probably not a determining one, considering we were built for this.
We spend every single day on these machines and when we’re on the track, it’s like another day at work.
The sun is starting to set and when we get back to the motorhome, Lincoln and Stassie are sitting around the campfire with a bag of marshmallows.
Reiss doesn’t say a word to them, instead he walks inside and shuts the door.
“What’s going on with him?” Lincoln asks.
“Just getting in the zone, you know how he gets before a race.”
She nods, tossing me a marshmallow straight from the bag, “Raw, just how you like it.”
Stas nearly spits her marshmallow out, “What the fuck? Ew!”
“No,” Lincoln says. “I didn’t mean…”
Stas stands up, dropping the bag of marshmallows into the folding chair, “Nope, I’ve heard enough about how he likes it. I’m going inside.”
Lincoln giggles as she walks inside and closes the door behind her.
“She’s so fucking dramatic,” I say, causing Lincoln to smile.
“You have no idea. If only you could’ve been in the car with us on the way here.”
I sigh, “Was too busy having a heart to heart with daddy dearest.”
“That bad?” She winces. “He seems really happy to be here.”
“It wasn’t bad at all actually. Just didn’t really think he’d lay it all out there like he did.”
“Have you heard from your mom? ”
“Nope,” I say, unable to meet her eyes, knowing she’ll see the disappointment in mine.
“Hey,” she whispers, “It’s her loss. She’s the one missing out.”
“Is she?” I argue. “I’m not even really racing. So she’s not exactly missing anything.”
“She doesn’t know you aren’t racing, though, and she’s still not offering any support.”
I laugh. “Yeah, even my haters are more supportive. At least Landon’s out there trying to sell tickets to my downfall on YouTube, that’s a whole lot more than what my mom’s doing.”
She pinches her nose, “Did you just compliment Landon for hating you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t slept well in a few days, I’m just delirious at this point.”
She looks over at me concerned, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
I look down at my swollen leg, “I’m just in a lot of pain. I can’t help but worry that the surgery won’t work.”
“Dr. Marlow said he was confident that it would. You have to trust that everything is going to be okay. You’ll be riding like normal in no time.”
Those words make my chest ache. I don’t want to disappoint her, but I also don’t want to lie to her either.
“I don’t know if I want to risk it. I don’t know if it’s really worth the risk.”
She pulls her brows in, “But you love racing.”
“And I always will,” I agree. “But the older I get the more I fear the consequences of racing.”
“You’re afraid of getting hurt again?” she asks, surprised, knowing it’s not like me to admit something like that. Especially not when I’m known for showing no fear on the track.
I look down, embarrassed that I’m kind of looking like a pussy right now.
“No,” I say. “It’s not a fear of if I’ll get hurt again, it’s when and how badly.”
She just looks at me, knowing that I’m right. Motocross is dangerous. Racing is dangerous. That will never change. Injuries are common, even fatal ones.
She’s shocked, “Are you saying you don’t want to go pro?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “There are so many things I want to do in my life and I don’t want to do them while in constant pain.”
“Are you afraid of getting hurt again or are you afraid that you won’t come back stronger than before?”
“Maybe a little of both,” I sigh. “I watch my dad and remember all the things he couldn’t do with me because of his injuries. I don’t want that for my kids.”
“Colson, that’s pretty far down the line. If you love riding and you give it up, then you’re just surviving. If you give up what you love, that’s not living.”
“I wouldn’t be giving up what I love,” I admit. “I’d be giving up racing, but I will never stop riding. It might seem like surviving right now, but in ten years it might feel like living.”
She shrugs, “I just want you to be happy.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m giving up because it’s not like that for me.”
She nods, “We can talk about it after your surgery, you might feel differently then.”
I nod my head in agreement, “Yeah maybe. I don’t want to let you down by not going pro. I know I’m good and everyone will say it’s wasted talent, but I’m not like Reiss. I don’t want it like he does.”
I take a deep breath and continue, “What I’m saying is, if you don’t want to risk your career tomorrow to make sure mine isn’t buried, you don’t have to.”
“I’ll ride tomorrow. I just want you to have the time to think about what you really want.
You can get your surgery and think it over without all the pressure of Nationals on your back.
If you decide you don’t want to go pro, then at least it will be your choice.
You deserve someone that will stand in your corner. ”
I nod, knowing there's still a chance that I have the surgery and can’t ride again, anyway.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I would regret not going pro, even though I highly doubt it. Either way, there’s no way I’m convincing her not to ride in my place tomorrow. She’s already got her mind set on helping me. And there’s only one person that’s more stubborn than I am.
Lincoln.