Tuesday I woke up, surprised that I had actually been able to sleep the night before. The last time I was at Thunderhill, I woke up every hour the night before my track day. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks, albeit with some trepidation. I would be riding my BMW, Peter would be on Frankenbik3.

The day before, Bart and Karolyn were rained out of their track day (it has been rescheduled). Since no one was on the track, about a dozen people walked the three and quarter miles. Bart and I talked about reference points and road camber and general strategy for me, as a novice, on this track.

The first thing I noticed as we walked into Turn 1 was the brake markers, three little signs off to the right. I knew the signs were there, but I had never seen them before, that is, their existence had not played a part in my last track experience. Standing on the inside edge of Turn 3 I could feel the tarmac falling away, staying tight to the inside makes so much more sense when you can see how much you would have to fight gravity if you were to take it wide.

Walking up the Turn 5 hill felt like coming back to the scene of a crime - I found the place where I bit the dust last year. We walked all over Turn 5, I rode it in my mind's eye a few times, then we walked down the hill. Seeing me cringe just thinking about riding down the hill, Bart reminded me that when I rode on the back of Lance Keigwin's bike, Lance had charged down the hill so hard that I squeaked - the point was I knew it was not only possible but actually a good thing to get on the gas going down the hill and into Turn 6. I think my response was a grunt.

We located a nice dark corridor on the tarmac to set me up for Turn 8. Turn 10 and Turn 11 bollixed me up last year and I could tell that this time I would be spending a lot time trying to find reference points and a strategy for these two.

Now that I could see (as in, they registered in my brain) the braking signs on the left of Turn 14, I knew I'd have a better time getting through 14 and 15.

In the riders' meeting Lance told us that the sighting laps would be slow. I was terrified Iast year in the sighting laps. I had already made a bargain with myself that if I was really uncomfortable, I would just go grab a teacher. He said something about some people might find the laps boring... "Boring? yeah right, there's nothing boring about your heart pounding in your chest."

I was the last one in my moto-duckling line for the sighting laps. I was fully prepared for a replay of last year's controlled panic. I found out later that we were going about ten miles an hour more slowly than last year, but what I noticed in the moment as we came through Turn 1 was "I'm bored". Bored? Well hot damn, that means I've got enough brain cells available to start finding those reference points we identified yesterday, and lookee there, there are those brake markers in exactly the same place that they were yesterday, and that willow tree hasn't moved either!

And here we are, coming up to Turn 5 and now we're scooting into 5A and I didn't see one crest demon reaching out to drag me down.

When the sighting laps ended I was feeling good - such a different emotional space from last year's depths of demoralization.

I had signed up for a one-on-one with a teacher at 3:30, I wanted either Phil or Joe, but I wasn't fast enough to get signed up with them any earlier. I rode the entire morning on my own. Our track party had five people, Karolyn, Dennis, Bart, Peter and me, so I had the luxury of abandoning Peter on his first track day and leaving him and Frankenbik3 in their more than competent care.

I had set one goal for myself for this day, to stay upright. What I had not taken into account was all the highway riding I've been doing since last August - I'm more confident on my bike (I'm just about to turn 6000 miles) and more comfortable with speed. Coming out of my old friend Turn 2 I was going a tad faster than I expected and had to shift my weight more to set up for Turn 3. "Oooh oooh we're leaning more than I'm comfortable with..." I heard this voice in my head, "Trust your tires, just trust your tires". So I did, and came out of the turn just fine.

Turn 5 still has its mystique but it is no longer "demon hill" to me, I have a sense of appropriate entry speed, where to turn the bike (slightly before the crest), and relative positioning (about one third in from the left). Now I can even accelerate into Turn 5A. Yeah, me, the one who hates going downhill fast, I was on the gas coming out of Turn 5 and diggin' it.

I did get pulled over by a teacher mid-morning who told me to tighten up my line in Turns 6 and 7. Later in the afternoon, I actually passed someone on the outside in Turn 6. I was surprised and not just a little gratified to discover that I had improved enough that I actually could pass people, once in Turn 2 and once in the back straight.

In one session Peter passed me in Turn 8. I saw him go flying over Turn 9. I knew there was no way in hell I could catch him although I did try. He was looking good - I was so proud of him.

I was having fun with Turns 14 and 15 - having those brake markers made all the difference in the world. I would roar down the back straight, up to a whopping 90 mph once or twice, get my down shifting done between the first and second brake marker, use the brakes until the third brake marker, then make the turn. I screwed it up once - I down-shifted too late and lost track of what gear I was in. The rear tire chirped, and skidded out a bit. I got a really bad feeling in my belly, ''...ut ohh, this feels like how Dennis described his high side..." I fully expected the bike to pop me off, but it didn't. It forgave me, and righted itself, and growled at me, "...listen, don't do that again - 3rd gear is just fine for this turn, pay more attention."

Coming out of Turn 15 into the front straight I made a conscious effort to see how fast I could accelerate the bike. Not how fast I could go, but how fast I could get going fast. I think my shifting could use some work. I topped out at about 95 mph before I got to the tower - I wasn't ready to deal with more than that. I was very conscious of incoming human projectiles from the right - the idea that some one might look but not see me and dive over to the left made me slow down early.

The real pain was the Turn 10 and 11 sequence. I got it right exactly once. Getting it right means that I was in the right place coming into 10 to be in the right place to make it through 11 which means that 12 and 13 essentially disappear - you run straight through them. The other passes were sloppy ugly. The diagnosis was that I was looking for reference points on the tarmac itself and not using the reference points around the track.

I came in a few laps early each session - as soon as I felt my concentration flag I made the decision to come in. I figured the name of today's game was "pacing". When I came in from the penultimate session of the afternoon, I felt rung out. The pit dude made me drink water, eat a banana and some cookies. I had half an hour to get it together again for the last session, but coming out of the class (while the "A" group was riding), I knew I was cooked and done for the day. I crossed my name off the teaching schedule and flopped into a chair in our pit. There was no point in putting myself out there, I would be a hazard to other riders, I wouldn't be able to manage myself well if somebody else lost it, and, statistically, most accidents happen later in the day when people are more tired than they realize. Sure enough, after four laps, the red flags went out and the ambulance rolled. It may take me a few track days to be able to maintain enough mental stamina to stay on the track until the checkered flag flies.

Our pit dude told me my average lap time was 3:30. It will be interesting to see how I do in June, I was already signed up for the 2-day Novice event. As soon as I got home, I signed myself up for the August Novice Day too. Peter and I are also signed up for CLASS in October. I think I might be on the slippery slope to track junkiedom.

As with last August, I have had no desire to ride since I returned home although I felt the glimmer of a riding itch today, four days later. I guess I had better take off the blue painter's tape from the lights and turn signals.