True Story

by Shawn Sckoropad

January 2009

A simple mistake that may change your life

            In my life there was one unforgettable day where I learned to never let go…I was in Palm Coast, Fl. when that day arrived. It was a sunny day; you could smell the gas of the dirt bikes in the air, you could see the fear in the eyes of the young guys who were competing against each other to be the best, and you could hear the joy from the people who won.

 April 4, 2005; my dad woke me up early that day for what was going to be my last day of practice in Florida. We were going back home to Canada. I was nervous that day; my dad wanted me to do a big triple jump. I knew I had to do that jump to be classified with the best in the sport. I had the experience and the strength to do it; the gut was the last required ingredient.  I put my helmet on, my gloves and my goggles; I walked to my bike and started it. I could feel the vibration of the motor under me roaring and ready to go. I held the clutch and went to join my dad at the track. Once there, my dad told me to go slowly for a few laps and go for the jump after. He encouraged me to do it and told me that I was capable of doing it. I was scared as I let the clutch go. I was scared to hurt myself. I went around the track and the conditions were great. The leaps of the jumps where perfect, and the dirt was fluffy so you could get traction. On my second lap I went faster because I knew the track better and was feeling good.  

Arriving at the big triple jump, I had a moment of hesitation. The biggest mistake you can make on a dirt bike is to face a jump without enough speed. So I was in the air and I knew I was going down. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best, but things didn’t turn out so well. Two feet, just two feet short of a ninety feet jump. I felt all my body compressed together and hit the ground really hard. I couldn’t breathe, I was looking for my breath but I had dirt in my mouth. It seemed like with half a second and my dad was next to me; I had the indescribable feeling of wanting to move without any response from my badly damaged body. Would I be able to walk? Would I be paralyzed? Would I be able to ride again? I realized in a few seconds how I could end up, and I saw images of myself in a wheel chair. It was terrifying and made me think twice about what I wanted to do with my life. When my dad arrived and I saw his face; I knew my life had change! I could see in his eyes, the fear, the guilt he had for making me try that jump, but I could also see his love for me. The passion that he once had for motocross now wasn’t the same, since I was hurt on the ground. To see my dad like that crushed my heart. He was scared for me and now the only thing that he wanted for me was not to win, but to be fine.  

That day made my body weaker (I broke two vertebras (L1 L2)) and it scared my family. After that day, my dad stopped helping me become a champion. We were scared. I was scared of hurting myself and not being able to do what I loved or not to be able to see the people that I love the most, my mom, dad, brother, and sisters. My dad tried to get me into other motorsports; but my passion for motocross forced me to beg him for weeks and months to start doing motocross again. My mom saw that if my passion was taken away from my life, I wouldn’t be the same anymore. She loves me so much that, despite the fact that she was scared for me, she helped me try to convince my dad. After two years I finally succeeded.

He bought me two new bikes. My dad and I went to the track for practice. I was scared to hurt myself and I was devastated to see how slow I was. The once fastest kid in Canada wasn’t the same anymore.  Although my dad didn’t say anything, we were both hoping I was going to catch up with practice. My dad brought me to the race where all my old fans and friends were. They were all expecting me to be the best even if I had missed two years of racing. Everyone was nice to me just like they used to be before my accident, and since we arrived with the big semi, it made the impression that we were coming back big. The next morning I expected myself to win like before. I went for my first practice and I realized that my accident had changed me. I was scared of every little obstacle that was once easy for me. I wasn’t physically or mentally ready.  

I used to wake up early in the morning to train. I knew what it took to be the best; I guess I forgot. Yes I forgot that to be a champion, I had to work very hard, harder then the others and be mentally ready. I was scared and no one can erase that from your head except yourself. I finished twenty-second at my first race, it didn’t help with my mental and everyone was talking about me in my back not knowing why I was that slow. At that point it just didn’t feel like it was fun to ride a dirt bike anymore. The champion with eleven titles under his belt was history. That wake-up call reminded me of all the work I had to do to come back.  

The mountain in front of me was incredibly tall. Was I ready to put the time, effort and dedication? And what about the fear? I told my dad that I would do it and I would do my best. At my request, my dad hired a coach and I worked out with him and started gaining some confidence and speed. I was starting to get faster but, I was not where I wanted to be. I was satisfied with the results and I knew it would bring something back. At the end of the year, I was racing at a small fair to have fun, and I was getting my confidence and speed back almost to my previous form. On my last race I was battling with one of my competitors for the first place when I fell and broke my collarbone. I was mad at myself for not finishing that race, the last of the season.

After a very long winter without riding we moved to Florida in July. Knowing that we were moving, we decided not to start the motocross season in Canada and waited to be in Florida. To bring my confidence up, my dad bought me two of the best racing bikes money could buy. It took one month to have them modified and shipped to Florida. We were both like kids in a candy store.

We took the dirt bikes to the track that weekend. Eleven months had past since my last ride. I had to regain my confidence and my speed. At that point I realized that my fear wasn’t a fear of hurting myself, but a fear of stopping my career. A real champion doesn’t have time for fear when on the track, he has to pass his fear and go for it.

It is one thing to know what is wrong and another to correct your mistakes. For several weeks we went to the track and practiced without any sign of a champion in the making. My dad didn’t say anything to hurt my feelings but he was disappointed with my results. He still brought me to the track every weekend because he wanted to make me happy. At one point he convinced me to do a big jump. That jump was a table single; it was scary, and it was 90 feet. I was listening to my dad and it reminded me of the day I broke my back. I was scared to death to lose my fun and my close relationship with my dad.

It was my turn to go on the track. My dad looked at me and told me that I was able to do it; he had confidence in me. I started my bike, and I could feel the engine roaring under me. I held onto the clutch, I engaged first gear, and headed towards the track. On the track I was so nervous and scared that I wasn’t thinking about anything. When I arrived in front of the jump, I hesitated! What was I thinking? Never let the gas go! The biggest mistake you can make on a dirt bike…I was in the air and I could see that I was going to land short on the jump. I held my handle bar as strong as I could but the impact was so hard and fast that it made me fall on the ground very hard. I couldn’t breathe because of the impact with the handle bars. I knew that it wasn’t as bad as the crash I had three years ago but, it wasn’t good either. I was okay but my back hurt a little bit for a few days after. I didn’t touch to my dirt bike for about two months.

After two months my dad brought me back to the track. He explained to me that he wasn’t having fun anymore at the track, and he wasn’t ready to make all the efforts he was making just to ride for pleasure. He explained to me that we had a race setup that was costing a lot of money and time, and if I only wanted to ride for fun we would have to adjust our setup. He asked me to take the decision but to be ready to act accordingly.

Dad: ‘’Shawn what do you really want to do in life?’’

Shawn: ‘’I want to become a professional motocross champion.’’

Dad “you know you have to put effort into it, it doesn’t come by itself…”

That weekend I went on the track without thinking about hurting myself. I went there to become a champion like I used to be. My dad was satisfied with my results. Although my starts were very bad, I did a race and finished sixth overall.

I had the whole week to think about my performance and how to make it better. The following weekend, every little piece of the puzzle seemed to fall into place. On the first day of practice, I lowered my lap time by six seconds. My cornering was much better, in fact better then ever. I had better control over the jumps, and my bike and I were in harmony.  That famous big jump was still on my list of things to do, but I had an incredible lap time even without doing it. 

The night race was starting, and my dad and I were stressed to the max. I was the youngest rider out there, racing against fifteen to twenty-five year old guys. My dad was reminding me of how good of a rider I was and how good of a bike I had, so there was no reason for me not to be racing up-front.

The gate dropped and with brutal impact I let go of my clutch with only the vision of being the first one at the first corner. And first I was… That night was my, I mean OUR, best feeling in more then three years. WE WON two races out of two. My dad had a hard time hiding his tears while mine where hidden behind my goggles. We celebrated our victories with a nice dinner in our rig before going to bed chatting about our future in motocross.

The following day we stayed at the same track to practice. I had one thing on my list of things to do that I wanted to take care of. The beast, that dark evil, the rattle snake, yes that big ninety feet jump. My heart beat was matching the engine rpm, every corner was bringing me closer to that monster. My head was trying to convince my heart not to do it, but the outcome was too important to surrender. I hit the corner preceding the beast on third gear, full throttle, and I when for it without ANY hesitation; I couldn’t believe it, I was flying, I could see that my speed was perfect; I was in the right path. In my head, I was thinking about how stupid I was for hesitating when I broke my back. What if I hadn’t hesitated? Where would I be in the sport right now? Top amateur in the world? Maybe now I know why every pro racer tells everyone not to hesitate in front of a jump. Hesitating can be ‘’the simple mistake that may change your life’’. Finally approaching the landing, I touch the ground; it was to smooth to be true. The evil was dead. I took care of it; I can check that off of my list finally. That jump was a piece of cake for a good rider like me. I will never let a jump play with my head. I will be smart but fearless. 

The following weekend we decided to go racing in another series against guys from North Florida and South Georgia. New competitors were a nice way of testing my skills. This race was to take place where I practiced years ago, the very same track where I broke my back! I realized that I was racing not only against the other riders, but against the track itself.

            Well the champion has prevailed, I did not only win against the track, making all the jumps, but I also won against the other riders and brought home the first place honor.

Now my biggest challenge has started, I am racing against myself to lower my lap time, and getting closer to being a PRO-RIDER…