Kerry Relph's Racing Journal

First Race Weekend

by Kerry Relph

My First Race! The words tumbled around my head for weeks, the thought alone enough to send me in to private paroxysms of fear or excitement.

This had been happening ever since I laboriously filled out the application for my competition license, attached the myriad of supporting documentation they required, faxed it in and then started ponying up one check after another in ever increasing amounts.

My first real race! Was I crazy, or just insane?

Race weekend finally arrived, but time seemed to tick slower and slower the closer it came. Friday night was nearly sleepless, and what little I did do was filled with nightmares about the track.

I had nightmares about the standing start that NASA (National Auto Sports Association) uses, which I had never done before. I dreamt that my husband Richard spent the whole day at the track in some lounge (never mind that he doesn't even drink) watching sports and he didn't care that I had missed my race or the announcement to grid.

I also calculated in my dreams how much I had spent for this day and how much that worked out to per lap--wow.

When I woke up on Saturday morning I was so tired that I decided my only goal for the day was to relax and get ready for my Sunday race so my nightmare wouldn't come true. I started with writing a schedule and highlighting the pre-grid times for Warm-up, Qualifying, Race 1 and Race 2.

I told Richard and my daughter Jessica how much their support meant to me, and how I needed them to help out at the track since I was probably going to be a bit out of it. Richard put my fears to rest and agreed to be my "pit mom."

I wrote lists and packed the Jeep. I studied the map of Laguna Seca with the turn-by-turn description and played a drive of the track in my mind, thinking about the gears I'd be using for each turn, where I'd be shifting or braking.

I like Laguna Seca a lot, especially the famous corkscrew which you slide through silently when you do it right, and you fight when you do it wrong. But I haven't got as much experience there as I do at Sears Point, my favorite track, and I had to force myself to stop chiding myself for not waiting for My First Race to be at Sears Point instead.

The point was not to be good my first time out of the starting gate, it was to see what it was like to experience a real race from the track. To do something that most people just dream about.

After I finished studying the track, there was nothing I could do to prepare except to make sure I was in top physical and mental condition. I had recently stepped up my physical training to six miles every other day and lifting the full stack of weights on my home gym to increase my endurance, but today was a day to let my body recuperate.

Normally with all my nervous energy I would have had to exercise, but instead we watched a movie and turned in early.

I woke up fully alert ten minutes before the alarm went off at 4:30 Sunday morning. I had slept well and I was so thankful. It was two quiet hours to the track, but before I knew it we were there, the sun was coming up, I was registered and had my wrist band.

The day turned out perfect in every way. The weather was balmy, my husband was a supportive "pit mom" to me, my mechanic had the car in perfect racing condition, and the races were every bit as thrilling as I had imagined and then some.

Sunday was a day of all races, no open tracks or high performance driving events or other school events as they usually do. I felt conspicuous at the racers' meeting, but there were several other women racers there.

There were some harsh words from the Race Director about body contacts the day before, more harsh words about passing during a full course yellow, and then the meeting was over. Not like the meetings for classes, where they drone on and on about passing zones and flags ad infinitum.

The schedule was pretty tight since there was the Timex two hour enduro at the end, and Richard "mommed" me so I was ready in plenty of time with my suit on and my car adjusted to me. Although I have been driving my own Porsche 944 on the track for about two years now, I was driving a different one today, one of a stable of fully modified Pro Sedan 944's owned by my mechanic and coach, racer David Modderman of Sand and Sea Racing.

David has also been extremely supportive about my getting into racing and one of my strongest influences. He's also one of the top 944 racers in the Nor Cal area.

Before I knew it I was pre-gridding for warm-up and qualifying, which was combined into one 45 minute long session. I had a lot to get familiar with during warm-up; a track I hadn't seen in a while, and a car that was familiar and yet not. The track came back to me pretty quickly, and the car was a delight to drive.

The racing tires added more grip to the 944 than I was used to and after they warmed up a few laps I started pushing my limits a bit each time.

Having the large field of cars around me qualifying--there were 47 entrants--didn't seem to faze me all that much until two cars passed me at once, one on each side. Whoa!

That was when I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

For qualifying I tried to just keep to myself, relax on the straight-aways, and focused on getting a good lap time. But I did better on the laps when there were cars around me, reminding me later about the "competitive factor" that makes a runner go about 20% faster when they run with others than they do alone. That must work on the track, too!

My qualifying lap was six seconds better than I had ever done at Laguna, and I qualified ahead of two people in the Pro Sedan 1 group. I hadn't expected to be ahead of anybody; I had just wanted to finish in one piece! I jumped up and down with joy when I heard the news. Not very dignified.

I was drenched in sweat and dehydrated when I came off the track, but Richard had water ready and made sure I drank it. I wiggled out of the top of my suit, but there wasn't enough time to take it off and put it back on. After a once-over on the car, it was time to go back out and race.

We started with a simple line up and warm up lap behind the pace car. We then formed two lines behind the starting line, and when the green flag dropped we all took off at the same time.

The standing start itself was not as unnerving as I expected, but the messy ball of cars we formed almost immediately was. Everyone was immediately fighting for position with no room to maneuver.

We were a nasty and slow knot of cars for most of the first lap, going around corners three and four abreast. Finally the knot untangled enough to drive at speed.

I hadn't even made it through my first lap and I almost spun while battling two cars for position while entering Turn 11, my least favorite on the track, a sharp 90 degree turn that needs to be entered agonizingly slow to set up for the long straight-away that immediately follows.

Typical rookie, my attention had been on the other cars rather than on setting up for the turn. I swerved and bobbled and could feel two wheels start to drop off the edge, but managed to recover before they did.

Of course this is where all the spectators are so my family got to see me looking bad right away. But the other PS1 rookie I had placed ahead of completely spun his car at this turn, and was immediately out of the race.

Macho me, while on the track my goal changed from just making it safely through my first race to maintaining my humble qualifying position.

Unfortunately being grouped with the RX-7's were something that I was not experienced enough to deal with very well. They don't handle well through the turns, and slow to almost a crawl to get around them. Then the tremendous torque those rotary engines kick in as they accelerate out of the turn, taunting the steady torque curve of the 944.

But I wasn't good enough at passing in corners to take advantage of their handling weakness. Only if they had set up a turn poorly was I was able to pass some of them immediately after a turn, but some fought with me for position as if we were actually in the same group. Perhaps they were rookies like me and thought we were.

RX-7 Number 99 became my nemesis, staying directly in front of me most of the race, until for no apparent reason that I was able to fathom he suddenly relinquished the position to me. But by then my race time was intimately tied to his, and even though he slowly disappeared from my mirror, I wasn't able to significantly improve my time before the checkered flag dropped.

I came into the pits happy anyway. I had done it! I had really been in a race.

When the results came out between races, I was annoyed to find that Number 99 was not another rookie like me as I had expected, but had qualified with a time significantly better than mine. It made me wonder if someone else had done his qualifying!

But my second race found me in the same position, again struggling to get past Mr. 99. Since we gridded both times according to our qualifying time, he should have been up in the middle of the pack while the rookies like me battled it out in the rear. But as soon as the knot lengthened out a bit, there he was again just like a magnet. I don't know who this guy is but I need to work on getting around people like him.

Again, whatever time he got, I got. We left before the results for the second race appeared, but when they came in the mail I discovered that even though my times were not great, I had earned points! Like collecting cereal box tops, I guess. Many races to enter, many points to gather! I was hooked.

I learned so many things that must be experienced to be understood. A race is a race throughout the entire pack, not just the front-runners that are battling for the top positions.

If you are second to the last or even last place, you are fighting to get ahead of all the cars ahead of you. That race won't be written up in the papers, but it's as real as if you and the other last place car were the only ones in the world.

Being in a real race showed me exactly where my weaknesses are, in a way that dozens of un-timed events could not have taught me. If I'm going to continue in this particular race class, I need to learn the strengths and weaknesses of each kind of car so I don't have to waste track time discovering it for myself. I need to learn the other drivers, too.

Of course, if I get into open wheel racing, which is what I would ultimately love to do, all the cars are perfectly matched so all the strategy is discerning the drivers' strengths and weaknesses, it truly is the drivers pitted against each other rather than against other cars.

On a personal level, I learned while standing at the pre-grid that there are guys out there who already have racing experience who are worse than me. I qualified ahead of them! A career counselor once told me that women tend to study, study, study until they are practically overqualified, while men tend to over-exaggerate their abilities and then learn them on the job.

I feel this held true for my race experience, too. I have been studying and practicing for two years, whereas the men rookies I raced had just leapt in and bought a race car, some without ever taking a class. Beforehand, I was worrying that I had made an abrupt transition into racing, but now I wonder why I put it off for as long as I did.

But the most important lesson of all, was one I have learned over and over: there's no feeling in the world like that of facing a fear, and conquering it. It was worth all the trepidation.

On the way home I felt so incredibly good--that feeling of being totally, completely spent. I went home and slept the deep, deep sleep of triumph.

--Kerry Relph

To send a letter to Kerry, email to relph@thunval.com