Round 1
May 12, 2022 by Adam Miller
Round 1 is in the books and my final thoughts after some reflection are that racing a Ducati is a double-edged sword; when everything is clicking, they’re incredible, but they don’t always cooperate. I was also reminded that racing is not a solo effort. On the track, it’s just you, but off the track, a good support system makes all the difference. Allow me to elaborate.
After my final preseason trackday, the family and I took a trip to Vermont so that we could visit with my mom and step-father, affectionately known to Emerson as “Grammy” and “Grand-dude”. I have no regrets about the trip at all, aside from the fact that I had to continue working remotely for most of it; industry waits for no one. That aside, it was great to see “The Farm” for the first time since my mom and her husband moved there, a trip that was completely sidelined by COVID for several years given the risk to a pregnant wife followed by a recovering wife plus an infant child. It’s a beautiful property, Kori and I had fun, Emerson had a blast, smiles all around.
A Little Downtime, “The Farm”, Vermont, April/May 2022
Upon returning home, I was a bit on my heels trying to complete bike prep to attend round 1. I took time off work to get everything ready to go and still ended up with my signature sleep deprivation on the eve of Friday practice. After more detailed work than I anticipated and the concession of a few things I wanted to show up with, I ended up with a bike that wasn’t a beauty queen, but was still ready for action, including the spares I felt I needed after my recent low-side at IMI.
On my final day of bike prep, there was a shift in the Miller house that I hadn’t expected. Kori had been scheduled to leave for a month long trial several days before Round 1, but a settlement was reached and her weekend opened up. On the one hand, I felt like I was about to be in trouble because now I was really unprepared for a mother’s day I wasn’t expecting. On the other hand, Kori flipped a switch and became almost shockingly supportive of everything I still had to do. Not only did she help me cover parenting duty when I really needed it, she made plans to camp with me Friday night so that she could watch me race on Saturday. My pregnant wife camped with me, in a tent, on a bed of gravel stones, in conditions with absolutely 0 luxury. She then woke up to watch me do something that can be life threatening, a fact that she has begrudgingly accepted simply because she knows how important it is to me. To go a step further, I have no shame in admitting that Kori is also my biggest fiscal supporter, by far. So not only does she stick around in spite of having a husband with a dangerous hobby, she’s a huge, real talk supporter of it. Actions speak louder than words, and my wife showed me some major love this weekend, something I won’t soon forget.
How did I get this lucky?, HPR, May 2022
I also had more support this weekend beyond my wife. My brother-in-law, Blain, and nephews, Finley and Rowan, came out to watch the racing. Blain is a big MotoGP fan and we often get carried away talking about the greatest show on earth during family gatherings. I also had a friend from work, Chris, come out to watch. For reasons that aren’t mine to share, I was really honored to have Chris come out. It was quite a thing. He was the last guy to see me in pits before race 1 and helped me remove the warmers and get the bike off the stand; it was a special moment.
I wish I’d taken a few more photos in the pits, especially with those who came to cheer me on, but it was a really busy weekend. Unfortunately, this is the only one I have to show.
Uncle Adam with Nephews Finley and Rowan, HPR, May 2022
At any rate, the real meat and potatoes of the weekend started on Friday. I paid for a full day but missed the first session because I needed sleep after spreading myself too thin during preparation, as usual. I arrived in time to get my wrist band, bike on the stands, and tires on the warmers all before session 2 ended, only to ride to pre-grid to be informed that the session had been red-flagged. I was getting nervous because I had a very specific lap time I needed to turn that day in order to feel prepared to fight for a win on Saturday. Each missed session decreased my chances of fixing a few problem areas for me at a few specific turns. The red flag was serendipitous, though, because I returned to pit and discovered that my front warmer wasn’t giving me any heat. Had I gone out that way, that session would’ve almost certainly resulted in a low side; slicks don’t work without heat. Colin Edwards’ bat to the face line about cold tires came to mind. After some head scratching about my predicament, I started asking around the pits and ran into my weekend savior, Shawn Tripp. Shawn is good guy and he literally saved my weekend multiple times. He gave me some great transponder advise, lent me a set of tire warmers for the entire weekend, and lent me a set of oddball tools I’d left at home which were critical for a wheel swap Friday night and asked absolutely nothing in return. Thanks again, Shawn!
Sidebar: this is the second time I’ve had a weekend of racing saved by a selfless act from a fellow MRA racer. The club has good people, for sure.
At the end of the day on Friday, I was pretty close to my target lap time on scrub tires, which was good news. The bad news was that my bike wasn’t shifting quite right. An adjustment to the quickshifter was helpful toward the end of the day, but it was still a potential problem going into Saturday. At any rate, at that point in time I had to continue on with what I had and accept the risk. After an extremely long day, I put on some fresh tires for the morning and got to bed early.
High Plains Raceway Track Map
Waking up at the track on Saturday was 100% the right move. Unless it’s just not logistically possible, I’ll never try to red eye into a track the morning of a race again. When you sleep at a track the night before a race, you wake up relaxed, knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You get some coffee and some breakfast, take a look at the bike, and focus on the day to come. That much alone is probably worth 1-2 seconds per lap… not joking.
North American Talent Cup was with us during round 1, which was not only a real treat to see, it also meant that my first race started slightly later than normal and relaxed the pace of the morning a bit. I limited my 2 warmup sessions to a few short laps each to scrub in my new tires and feel them out. I felt I’d done all the homework I was gonna do and needed to conserve my tires and energy for the race. My lap times were dropping each time around the track, and I was feeling strong. I returned to my pit area and waited.
Scrubbing in Tires, MRA Round 1, HPR Full, May 2022
Kori was kind enough to ask me in advance what I wanted before the race. Up until this year, I’ve always been more or less alone at the track, so that is what feels normal. Aside from the help Chris offered to get the bike off the stand, I wanted those final few minutes to remain alone with my thoughts. As opening ceremonies approached, Kori gave me a kiss, wished me luck, and went to join Blain and the boys near pit wall to spectate. I waited alone in the trailer and, eventually, opening ceremonies commenced. I stepped out to watch the flag flap in the breeze, listened to our national anthem, and felt the nerves start to rise inside me. The anthem concluded and the speakers boomed “First call for Novice GTU.” It was time.
I met Chris back at the bike, who was my final point of contact before leaving for pre-grid. Reflecting on all my hard work over the winter, and feeling the immense weight to achieve I’d placed on my own shoulders, I was absolutely jacked on nerves. In his usual calm demeanor, Chris smiled and reminded me to have fun. It was something I needed to hear at that moment in time. Second call came over the speakers. Chris got the warmers off the tires, the bike off the stands, and gave me a quick embrace of encouragement before sending me off.. it was the kind of thing I think only one racer can give to another because they’ve been there, and they fully understand the nerves that build up.
I departed to pre-grid and awaited the warmup lap. The whistle blew, and out we went. It was a sweet symphony of controlled explosions swarming onto the track to commence the joys of racing season. This, is my heaven. As we sweep through the first section of the track, I know I’m starting near the front of the grid on merit of previous season points, so I’m eyeing up my competition and trying to imagine the ensuing battle. We all grid up and the bikes idle in anticipation. I find myself pounding my tank with my fists as one might do on a desk as the adrenaline courses through me. The whistle blows once more, clicks everywhere as riders engage first gear, engines of all varieties snarl and growl to launch speeds. The red light goes on. It stays on for an eternity but finally goes out. An explosion of sound ensues.
Round 1 Race Start, HPR, May 2022
My launch was unbelievable. I roared from the second row to the front of the pack for the briefest of moments only to find that the bike would not leave 1st gear. Shit. This was bad. I tried in vain to shift to second repeatedly as I lost two positions into turn 1. Enraged, I drove hard to turn 2 and left it very late on the brakes; too late. I gave up some ground again and watched 3 riders lead me onto the straight. My initial strategy of leading start to finish was quickly vanishing, so it was time for plan B: grab a rear wheel and go to work. One lap gone and a lead pack, including myself, was starting to break away. I had found my way to 3rd position and was winding up to give chase to the front to 2 guys after getting around the polesitter.
Good Form in Early Laps, Round 1, May 2022
Then, at turn 6, halfway through lap 3, the race incident happened. Focusing on outright speed rather than running a defensive line, I entered turn 6 deep to drive out hard after a late apex, a line unique to the Ducati learned at the suggestion of a far more experienced racer than myself. Unfortunately, although it’s ultimately faster, this line can leave the door open on corner entry, which is exactly what happened. I saw one rider come up the inside, and immediately started to line up my exit for a double pass because I knew he was on a slower line. As I began to open up the throttle, a second rider comes in hot and BANG contact right into the side of my body. I’ve rubbed tires in racing before, but this was a new one. Never have I ever had a rider run into my body while leaned over on a bike in the middle of a turn. It was brief, and we all stayed wheels down, but it was a significant interruption to my race plan. I was hot with rage. The guilty party threw up a hand to apologize for, what in racing, is known as dive bombing. Intentional or not, the end result was the same. There was contact and I lost a substantial amount of ground. At this point, a victory was starting to look bleak, but a podium still seemed possible. At the very least, I would not let the guilty party beat me. By the next turn, I wasn’t angry anymore, just extremely determined. “My body feels fine and the bike is still running, fuck it, this is racing and you’re in my spot”, I thought to myself as I went wide open on the throttle in hot pursuit. I started playing to my strengths by closing up on the brakes at every corner entry. I could feel the front tire screaming for mercy as I stayed on the right lever deeper and harder than ever, but I didn’t give a shit, I pushed on anyway with a very singular task in mind; I had to be on that podium. Ironically, riding in anger can actually make you slower. I was blowing my markers and my rhythm was off because I still wanted to chase victory which was only possible if I retook 3rd almost immediately. I stagnated in 5th for a lap because I just wasn’t running a decent line anywhere. I was amped and I could see that it was screwing up my race, so I calmed down and settled back into a groove. Nearly as soon as I smoothed my lines and started to regain some ground, the damn shifting problems returned. I couldn’t shift into my final gear on the long straight, I couldn’t downshift to my preferred gear on the entry of turn 4, and I couldn’t upshift on the exit of turn 6. It was making my life very hard to stay in podium contention. Eventually I noticed that P3 had cleared off and my best hope was to regain P4. I chose a place to do it cleanly on the penultimate lap and made my move. Once back to P4 I ran a defensive line on the final lap to retain my position but did so to a fault and ended up being slow enough to allow an overtake at turn 2. I lined up good drive on the exit of 3 with the intention of passing on the entry to 4. But on the straight, more shifting problems, more lost ground. Damn. “I can still get him” I thought. I maintained the gap through turn 6 and started to close back down at turn 7. No high gears for a bit so I kept closing and closing. Entry of turn 10, I was right there and thought about a pass, but decided it was too close. Entry to 11, same thing, but I was still there, ready to make a move. I decided the safest place would be the exit of the corkscrew, as that’s my strongest part of the track and it would leave no opportunity at all for another overtake. I closed right up at the top of the corkscrew, I could nearly reach out and touch P4, but then my engine speed sputtered down like a deflating balloon. Another damn missed downshift at the critical moment. I had no drive at all to do anything and watched 0.5s disappear as P4 evaded me to the finish line. Last year, I’d have been thrilled to get P5 in race one, but this year it felt like I had denied myself a much better finish. Not for lack of speed, but for a collection of mistakes, both internal and external, and a pretty substantial problem with the bike. I wasn’t happy with the result. [Edit: P2 was later disqualified which bumped my final position up to P4] Upon reflection, this round of Novice GTU has some very interesting numbers to consider:
Most significant, I think, is that, in comparison to last year, all 5 top finishers, including myself, had a race time atleast 13 seconds faster than last year’s race winner. I was in last year’s race and the conditions weren’t much different, implying that the top group is just faster at the start of the season this year.
On lap 2, I was the third fastest rider on the track, set the 4th fastest lap of the race, and felt strongly at that point that I was settling into a rhythm worthy of pursuing the race leader.
The second place finisher was also on an 848 and he finished less than a second behind the race winner. That’s a bittersweet, but encouraging fact for me to consider.
The fastest lap of the race was under 2:00, which didn’t happen in Novice GTU at HPR full last year until Round 4 when my buddy Nick secretly started racing with a rocket booster strapped to his back. I still don’t know how he made it through tech. Oh well, every alien needs a rocket.
The race times and fastest lap times in Novice GTU were faster than those for Amateur GTU. Very. Interesting. Reversal.
My wife is 1000% awesome
Suffice to say that the novice class this year is on fire. In isolation, those facts and figures might be a little intimidating to someone, such as myself, trying to win Novice GTU this year. However, my spirits are lifted by a few counterfacts:
I LOVE a challenge, and such a competitive class is going to fuel my fire much more than an easy first win would have.
I brought home a P5 in spite of everything that happened during the first race; it was a salvage job.
In the Novice GTO race later that day, which mixes Novice GTU riders with liter bike riders, I led the race for the first sector of lap 1 (you can’t do much against a liter bike on a straightaway when you have a 40+ HP deficit), and led everyone who’d beaten me in Novice GTU for several laps until the shifting problems really started getting bad. So by the evidence of the second race, when I’m riding cleanly and not having bike problems, I’m perfectly capable of leading that fast Novice GTU group of riders.
When the dust had settled, I left with some respectable points to take home and some reasons to feel optimistic about the season moving forward. I wasn’t able to bag that first win and didn’t even end up on the podium, but I rode a really good race, given the circumstances, and I was reminded that people I care about are in my corner, cheering me on, which is probably the biggest win of the weekend I could have gotten.
In conclusion, this is going to be an awesome season, with some good, hard racing against some fast as hell competitors and I’m really looking forward to round 2 when we go to PPIR, which is a track I’m very good at. Last year I finished P4 there after a single day of practice, having never seen the track before.
My task now is to get the bike fixed so that I can ride to my full potential. I feel very ready to commence this championship battle, but the repairs needed to the bike are not going to be cheap. Now more than ever, I need your support to keep this momentum going.
If you’re enjoying the updates, please consider supporting my program and helping me achieve a dream of mine. Whether it’s a $20 donation through my Give Now page, or sending me spare parts, everything helps and everything is appreciated.
Cheers,
Adam Miller
