At an autocross event, most conversations revolve around speed.
At the beginning of the day, after the course has been set up, racers are afforded the opportunity to walk the course. They can walk it as many times as they want, right up until the drivers’ meeting. I tend to walk it at least four times, trying to memorize the turns, thinking about where to place my wheels, where I’m going to up- or down-shift. You can walk a good four miles, at least! In fact, you tend to do more walking than driving at an autocross. But I digress.
We are all about shaving time off our runs. Non-autocrossers will ask me, “How fast are you going?” That’s the wrong question! My race car doesn’t even have a speedometer. I wouldn’t have time to look down at it if I did. The right question is, “What was your best time?” In an autocross you are on the course by yourself. You trip the lights at the beginning of the run and again at the end. Fastest time wins.
At local events you can have anywhere between four and eight runs, trying to shave time off each run. I try not to look at other people’s times, it only frustrates me and causes me to make mistakes. I use my first run as a benchmark and try to beat my time. Yesterday, I went from 40.070 seconds on my second run (my first run didn’t count because I went off course – grrr!) to a 38.205 on my best run.
When you listen to autocrossers, they talk about what “line” to take (where to put the car in relation to the cones). They talk about “picking up time” by trying a different line or by getting closer to the cones (if you hit a cone, it is a two second penalty!).
I found a different speed secret this year. It has nothing to do with tire pressure, picking the right line, or staying close to the cones. Nope. My secret to speed is Charlie horses. Yep. I had just started my run when I flexed my foot just right and got a nasty Charlie horse in my right calf. My accelerator leg. My go fast leg. It hurt SO bad and I couldn’t do anything about it. The only thing I could do is get my run over as quick as I could. I tore around the track at lightning speed, yelling the whole way. I don’t think anyone heard me, though, since I wear a full-face helmet.
When I came into the grid, my husband finally heard me. He thought I had really hurt myself, or been stung by a wasp (they are bad this year). When I told him what happened, you know what he did? He laughed at me! He full on belly laughed and couldn’t stop. There were even tears in his eyes.
I guess it was a little funny. It gets funnier the more time goes by. And you know what? It was my fastest run of the day.
So that’s my secret to speed. Forget about all that technical stuff about lines and tire pressure and car placement. Get yourself a Charlie horse!