Every year on the wide world of sports, Howard Cosell would broadcast the US race from Carlsbad and it was so awesome. Low and behold I got stationed at San Diego, so after awhile I manned up and went to race at Carlsbad. Very cool track, big natural terrain and much much longer than it looked on tv. At the end of the first moto, I couldn’t breath, my legs were on fire, my hands and forearms were shot, and I was simply hanging on and praying for the checkered flag on every lap. My hands were so shot, I couldn’t even pick up my bike (RM 500) to set it on the milk crate. I still had another moto to go. I made it through that race, and was freaking crippled for three days. At that time I was a rompin stompin Navy diver in the best shape of my life and here I was crippled. My wife took pity on me and made sure to punch me on the quad when I walked by, or dropped an elbow into my thigh Hulk Hogan style when she sat down beside me. She is so loving that way. Carlsbad got to be a regular thing on the weekends. I got faster, got better with lots of practice and advice. I never knew what athletes that MX’rs were until then. I have mucho respect for them now.