The night before I go to a race event is always a bit of a double-edged sword. I can never quite make up my mind if I like it or not.
On the one hand, I dislike the night before a race weekend. By the time it comes around I’ve usually already spent the entire day looking forward to attending the event and after all those hours and hours and hours and hours of not being able to do anything but think of the great things to come… the day still isn’t done and I still have the entire night to get through before I’m allowed to finally be on my merry way. Sometimes I try to trick myself into thinking that the night won’t be so bad, because I’ll spend a large part of it asleep – and when humans sleep, they’re oblivious to the passing of time. Neat trick, right? Nope. Wrong. The more I think that time will go quicker when I sleep, the less I’m actually able to sleep. I often end up spending two thirds of the the night tossing and turning, waiting in agony for the arrival a morning that never seems to come because my alarm clock simply isn’t ticking fast enough.
Sigh.
On the other hand, I also like the night before a race weekend. It’s a moment of relative quiet. The work week is done, but the action hasn’t started yet – although the anticipation excitement is definitely there. It’s the quiet before the storm, only without a tornado approaching on the horizon and more butterflies in the stomach. What will happen during the races? Who will be quick? Who will be slow? How will my favourites do? And what will the weather be like? In all honesty, for rather selfish reasons, it’s usually the last two questions that weigh heaviest on my mind. I don’t count a lot of drivers among my favourites, but I definitely have a soft spot for the rare few I do like. I always want them to do well, obviously, but when I go to see them race live I really want them to do well. As a result, a small part of the night before is usually spent checking out the competition and estimating the chances of ‘my lot’.
And then there’s the weather question. It’s probably a no-brainer why that one has caught my systematic interest. You know, if I truly have no other option I will sit in the rain to see a car race, no problem. However, when it’s not absolutely necessary that I almost drown myself for the love of the sport, I really rather wouldn’t do it. This means another chunk of the night before is dedicated to staring at the weather website, especially when the initial forecast was bad, because until the last second I’ll hold onto the hope that the bad news will somehow turn good. This is why it’s only at the very last moment that my rain gear gets packed.
Packed?
Oh blast.
PACK.
It’s nine o’clock and I still have to pack my suitcase. AND I still need to shower, too. Goodbye butterflies, hello stress. Never mind this whole balanced goody two-shoes discussion above. I hate the night before.