kimberliah…

I have discovered, over this last weekend…. that I am the resident pansy of my group of  friends.

I kind of already knew this… but Saturday definently solidified my “spot”

I, Kim… am the group wuss.

I really should have seen this coming….

Saturday afternoon there was a birthday party planned for one of our friends at K1 Speed

 Sounds like a good time, right?  Yeah… I thought so too…

It must have somehow slipped my mind how competitive these people are. 

and when it comes to racing…. forget it

These are people who race… real races…. and win…. real races.

So, yeah, that seems like a great idea…. I’m going to jump into an electric go-cart with all of these super-competitive race fanatics and let’s all have FUN!!!!

wtf, Kim.

I should have realized that I was in over my head as I walked towards my assigned cart.

First off, let my give a second introduction to the occupant of the cart directly behind mine….Our very own resident Racing SuperStar…  whom I have decided shall be called “Tiny Racer” or TR for short… TR didn’t seem very happy with the name I had decided to bestow upon him…but, oh well…. my blog, my rules

TR is always ”in it to win it”… “go big or go home”…. blah blah blah. 

I should have never agreed to get into that cart…

As I was attempting to fix my helmet and recall the instructions I had been given as a newbie… I began to feel bumping, coming from the rear.

It was at that moment when I realized what kind of situation I had just willingly put myself into….  The race hadn’t even begun and pure unfiltered anxiety was pumping through my body…

“They’re gonna kill me” was the last coherent thought I had as we drove onto the track.

I immediately swerved to the right to allow TR plenty of room the barrel past me…. and barrel past me he did.

Lap 1- I ran into a wall

Lap 2-  I think I blacked out and screamed this whole lap… TR lapped me… possibly twice.

Lap 3- I spun out on a shitty corner… I stopped spinning just in time for TRs old lady’s cart to drive up the side of my cart and come to a stop on my arm and shoulder.  We stared at each-other dumb-founded…. I screamed and pushed her cart off of me and drove away in a panic.

Apparently there were actually 12 laps in my race, but those are the only 3 that I remember… I’m assuming I went to my “safe-place” during the other 9 laps.

I begged my way out of the other 2 races, that were scheduled and watched the remaining mayhem unfold from the safety of the sidelines…

By the end of our afternoon at the track, I had finally regained a somewhat normal pulse-rate and my buddies had put a total of 3 carts completely out of commission.