I like the incremental approach to overcoming fear. I agree that fear is often treated as a big boulder you have to smash through.
Photograph by Chris Tropea
We’ve all seen fear on someone’s face or in their body language–or heard it in their voice. The tells are fairly obvious when you can actually lay eyes on someone. But it’s a rare and special occurrence when you can see someone else’s fear when you can’t actually see them. So that’s what we’re going to talk about this month.
But before we get to it, let me preface by saying I’m not referring to fear in a pejorative sense. Rather, I’m using fear as a shorthand for the elemental response we all naturally have when confronted with a reality outside our normal understanding of the world–those moments when you’re beyond your ability to mentally and emotionally parse what’s happening and you have to make an adjustment.
So yeah, nowhere is that kind of fear more apparent that at Daytona International Speedway.
Daytona is my home track, and I have countless laps there in a multitude of different events, in cars ranging from a Showroom Stock Neon, which could barely muster 130 mph on the high banks, to our former Corvette project car, which flirted with 180-plus. But whenever I drive there, I still see a very familiar pattern–and it was on full display at a recent SCCA Track Night in America event at DIS.
[Video: Daytona International Speedway Driving Tips | Track Tutorial]
If you haven’t been to a TNiA, you absolutely need to go to one. It’s a fun, non-competitive track event that the SCCA crew has managed to nurture into a largely ego-free zone. TNiA gives drivers of all skill levels a chance to sample legendary tracks in street cars at an insanely affordable price point. (The Daytona event only carried a $250 entry fee, which is kind of crazy for one of the world’s most famous circuits.)
[10 years ago, SCCA Track Night in America helped reboot track events]
And while the groups are divided up by skill level, to some extent even the most experienced drivers who are still Daytona rookies can show those visible fear responses when they first hit the high banks at speed.
Here’s how it manifests: Dude in a 500-horsepower Camaro–just a random car for this example, but wow, there are a lot of 450-plus-horsepower cars out there these days–does a sighting lap after rolling out of the pits.
“Okay, these banks are kind of nuts, but I got this,” he thinks as he crosses start/finish with aggression for the first time and dives into the infield. After negotiating the infield at a good clip–this is the advanced group, remember–500-horsepower-car guy exits Turn 6 and heads out onto the west banking at speed for the first time.
By the middle of NASCAR Turn 2, he’s starting to feel quite a lot of side load pressing him into and even up the 31° banks, which he’s never felt before in his life. He also glances down for just a moment and realizes he’s pretty much going faster than he ever has before at a track day: He’s been full throttle for close to 15 seconds now.
Then the fear hits, the foot comes off the gas, and a mental health coast phase begins.
And I applaud that reaction. Well, I definitely applaud it if those actions are preceded by “check mirrors,” but you get the idea. There’s zero shame in recognizing you’re out of your depth, taking steps to regain comfort and composure, and facing that fear again with more information. Daytona, being entirely unlike many other tracks, is certainly a reliable fear generator, but your particular boogeycreature might be somewhere else. Still, the reaction, and the process for overcoming it, are the same.
So how do you overcome that fear on track? Incrementally.
If you think fear is a wall to be smashed through, I suggest you listen to Michael McDonald when he tells you that’s what a fool believes. Fear is not one huge boulder you have to move all at once, but an endless pile of tiny pebbles that you’re free to move a handful at a time. Fear is overcome not by the foolhardy, but by the methodical, who reset their comfort zone little by little until actions that felt impossible become passé.
So I salute you, advanced group drivers experiencing one of my favorite tracks for the first time and who had the good sense to back off when things got too real. That approach will eventually pay big dividends as you use it to gradually find the limit in risky corners, or push the boundaries of a tricky braking zone while a bunch of people with the “just send it” mindset get burned out on their own adrenaline overloads, or worse.
We were hardwired with a fear response to preserve our own survival, so listen to it. Channel that fear into a measured response instead of letting it fester into panic that makes you do something dumb. Let that fear be your ally and your motivator, and you’ll both go fun places together. Maybe even Daytona.
I like the incremental approach to overcoming fear. I agree that fear is often treated as a big boulder you have to smash through.
One thing I love about endurance racing is how easy it is to make incremental changes. I can check my telemetry each lap and slowly make changes one second here and one second there. I have 2 hours in the car so I can really follow my changes.
I can still remember my most fearful moment though. Going in to turn 8 at CMP I tried following another (smaller lighter)car's line and I way overshot the limit and was looking at going straight off into the trees. Thankfully I only made it into the grass, but it doesn't help that a friend went into those exact same trees in the same manner recently before my trip.
buzzboy said:One thing I love about endurance racing is how easy it is to make incremental changes. I can check my telemetry each lap and slowly make changes one second here and one second there. I have 2 hours in the car so I can really follow my changes.
That's a good point. I guess I never considered that about endurance racing.
I've always associated fear with this one time I floated out too far in the gulf. I was young, swimming, and wasn't paying attention. Looked up and realized the beach was waaaayyyyy over there. It didn't help to panic, although there was some of it. I started swimming. I bobbed up and down on the water and I could see the beach and then I couldn't. I knew safety was there even if I couldn't see it all the time, I just had to reach it through the fear and the water.
Fear's not an obstacle, its a distance, and that distance changes with what you're doing.
Colin Wood said:I like the incremental approach to overcoming fear. I agree that fear is often treated as a big boulder you have to smash through.
I like it as well.
Kind of ties into a phrase I've adopted. "I'll try anything twice"
First time, at the worst you're afraid, you're anxious; you have no clue how you'll react. Second time, you know how you'll react, you can plan for it, you can actually see if its something that you enjoy or not.
I feel this way about the last turn at the firm. I still haven't gone through it as fast as I or the car can go. I leave a lot of margin on the table so as not to smash into that outside wall!
The cougar represents the fear. You gotta learn to drive WITH the fear.
wvumtnbkr said:I feel this way about the last turn at the firm. I still haven't gone through it as fast as I or the car can go. I leave a lot of margin on the table so as not to smash into that outside wall!
Ahh, so the cool thing about that corner is the banking. As long as you make the entry, if you spin there's every likelihood that you'll spin to the inside. That was definitely one of those ones where I went a little too hard and learned it by accident once, but it's boosted my confidence ever since.
Since we lost access to the kart track at the Speedway, and since I work right across the street, I did the Daytona TNIA event.
Since my car is really slow and I didn’t want unlimited passing, I registered for the intermediate group. That worked out well, except for the hellcat charger (imagine that).
With a top speed of 117, which required staying in the throttle until well past the flag stand, I managed my fear by keeping my eyes glued to the mirrors.
The Firm is fun, I can harass faster cars due to my familiarity with the track and the civic’s handling. Without any one else with a similar power to weight, Daytona wasn’t fun.
I've learned that there's a difference between what you might call trepidation and genuine (wide-eyed, heart-pounding, hands-shaking) fear.
If you're about to do something serious...like start a race...it's probably healthy to feel a little flutter of trepidation. In my day job, I still feel a little edgy when I'm about to start major surgery even after doing this stuff some 30 years. If you're totally cool and have zero stress in that kind of situation, then it might suggest you're not taking things quite seriously enough. For me, that's dangerous.
But if you're doing something serious...like trying to take Corner 4 at Mosport flat out...and you feel real fear, then that's a pretty reliable sign that you're in over your head. Things are happening faster than you're equipped to deal with. So, slow down and take a breath. Trying to operate at a level where anxiety has taken over is a recipe for disaster.
One of my scarier motor sports moments was realizing my closing speed on other "advanced" group, random track-nighters in their sundry street cars on the banking at Daytona, a course I've actually raced on many times, including the 24, [even back when there was no bus-stop], but never in anything as fast as my 650/650 Corvette. I know I was catching cars much faster than they would even have had time to see me in their mirrors because of the curvature and my closing speed, and doubt any of them had spotters or could have imagined the speed differential. Don't think I'll use that Z06 for Daytona ever again! 
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