There’s a fine line between delusion and motivation. There’s the motivation one gets from waking up in the morning and promising your reflection that you won’t have more than 6 devil dogs during the day, and then there’s the sort of extreme hyper self-motivation that folks like Charlie Sheen must use. The type that convinces you that there’s jungle feline blood flowing through your veins or that you can claim victory every time trivial events fall in your favor—toast pops up—winning! Granted that sort of motivation probably comes from a near lethal mix of intoxicants, but it is possible to get that sort of confidence without snorting pounds of South American Twitching Powder or working on an inexplicably popular sitcom with the remains of Duckie.

I mention this because I am nearing the kingdom of the over-motivated. In weeks past, I have approached the Tuesday night races at FBF with trepidation, as I am a lowly three in the land of the higher categories. I have viewed myself as a lowly underdog, unable to have an effect on the race, or even lucky to be able to finish. This attitude makes for a very unpleasant racing experience. If you are dreading or fearing the race you are going to, why bother? I realize that, like a punch in the groin can make your tethered man parts more durable, racing with faster racers makes you stronger; but if you only do races where you have no chance at any sort of success—the lack of results can be disheartening. It’s fun to be in races where you have a shot, because your racing psyche, like an embattled groin, needs a respite occasionally. Going into Tuesday’s race, I decided that like Stuart Smalley, I was good enough and smart enough (I don’t dare to assume that people like me, I know better) to take part in the race as a viable player; not just as a lowly participant, and if I was shelled out the back, then so be it.

Lining up for the race, I counted no less than seven Mengoni racers. I’m not sure what sort of threat Mr. I used to get them all to show up for bonus points night, but it was very effective. They were out in force, and anyone who wanted to be successful in the race had to face the "Mengoni Situation". Their numbers indicated that they would dictate the course of the race. And dictate they did, with Augusto S escaping almost immediately with Matt S of Rapha and Danny L of Die Hard. Augusto and Matt went on to finish the 28 mile race in less than an hour, which seems really painful. Back in the cluster of the motivated, there was chasing and occasional attempts to jump to the break. These jumps were all smothered by the Mengoni riders. The night went as follows: chase, jump, smother, chase, jump, smother and repeat. Teammate Al and I were trying to figure out a plan—I really enjoy racing with Al, as he like to chat about the race circumstances almost as much as I do—and as the race progressed as a battle between the chasers, Mengoni and the breakaway, I decided in a fit of Sheen level confidence, that I would sprint.

Normally, in a category three or four sprint, I can do just fine. I am strong enough to be near the front and sprint from that position. In a 1/2/3 sprint however, I need to follow wheels, and hope for the best. Mengoni were lining up for the field sprint on the last lap (Augusto and Matt would stay away, with Augusto winning), and behind Mengoni was definitely the position to be in, and coming into turn four, I was positioned there in my "Sheen" of delusion and confidence. I was not the only person to realize that following three Mengonis was a good plan, and there was a bit of a tussle behind their leadout. I got bounced a bit as things got hectic—nothing major, just normal racing contact—and that cost me a loss in momentum. But I was full of tabby hemoglobin and kept my head. The sprint to the line ahead of me whisked me along to the finish, and as I came to the line, I was able to sneak past Ricky L (who I have to assume was either near death with illness or is involved with the Make-A-Wish Foundation for middle aged guys from Jersey) into tenth place for the last points in the race.

One of the goals I had for myself for this season was to at least get one point at the Tuesday FBF race series, and it seems that I have now accomplished that goal, which serves to only buoy my delusions further. Perhaps I can win? Well, that would require an accident wiping out nearly all of the racers in the 1/2/3 race, along with a rope attached to the pace vehicle that I can hold onto, but you never know. There are a lot of bumps on the course, and with a little Sheen, anything can happen.