I'll add some thoughts which have been going through my own head lately. I raced Sunday at Blackhawk. It was the first time in several years that I'd done a club race, although I got a dream shot to ride Mid Illini Motorsports' bikes in AMA's MotoGT class last year. I've been pretty much a dedicated trackday coach since 2004, so I see both sides.
At a trackday, the only way you can lose is to wad your bike or get hurt. At a race, the only way to win is to beat everyone else. So what does that mean to the average racetrack rider?
Trackdays are huge fun. Find the group you fit into and go ride like you never legally could on the street. If others are faster, it really doesn't matter. The run-watcha brung format allows for plenty of excuses when you get passed. (He has a literbike, he has suspension, he has slicks, whatever...)
Racing. Hmmm.... It's all good when you start out. Just being involved is a complete rush! Back in the day, I ran in fields of 20, 30 or even more bikes. Pulling a 19th place on my lightweight bike in a middleweight field of 35 at Gateway after starting last was a huge accomplishment for me! Getting my first top ten in lightweight was equally incredible. Then I got wood. It was only a fifth place but that plaque reset the bar. From then on, no wood meant failure. It got worse. I wanted a championship. Within my limited means, I spent every second of my life outside work and every dollar I could scrounge on racing in pursuit of my goals. It turned into war. The joy of just being involved was replaced by the burning obsession of achieving success. I eventually obtained the race wins and championships I was after but the ordeal burned my soul to a crisp. In five years, I was emotionally finished. The jump to expert was especially hard on me. I lacked the funding to have a competitive setup and even if one had been provided to me, I just wasn't fast enough to be a winner if my bike carried a white plate. That more than anything else broke my heart and spirit.
Trackday coaching was medicine. I could help newcomers learn about the sport and ride as much as I could stand. I always did well in the impromptu "Instructor Derbys" that seem to occur toward the end of a weekend and that was enough to keep me happy. I thought I was cured. Then Mitch Stien offered me the MotoGT opportunity. HO LEE SHNIT! I was in no way ready for that! In the month I had before my first AMA race, I coached nothing but advanced and rode like my life depended on it. I found all I'd lost and more. When I got to MotoGT, I did not embarrass myself. It was a good feeling.
This year, I've coached a lot but spent part of each weekend riding for myself, working to keep my skills sharpened. This has been my fastest year. I've raced at Gateway and Blackhawk. No trophies but when I looked at the machines which beat mine, I saw 20K vs 4K and didn't feel too bad, especially when I looked at some of the very nice bikes that I managed to beat. Now I'm thinking that I need to run a few races each year in addition to the coaching, if only to remember who I am. The racer in me had been asleep for some time but now I feel it again. You know what? It feels good now!
Racing myself into spiritual ruin was not a good thing. At least I didn't let that be accompanied by financial ruin. The lesson I see from my own path is one of balance. When the sport stops being fun and becomes a holy crusade, it's time to back off or if you can't do that, quit.
Trackdays are awesome fun! They are not racing. The polite pass will eventually drive a racer crazy. When you race, any piece of asphalt you can get to first is yours. THAT is the most enjoyable aspect of competition. "Winning" a trackday is a hollow victory. Beating some other racer straight up for fifth place at a club race is far more satisfying. I'd forgotten that.
Some trackday riders will never have the necessary desire to make the jump to racing, just as some canyon riders will never take it to the track. If you have the desire, go racing. Do it on nickles and dimes if necessary but just do it. Try not to get sucked into the success vortex and just enjoy competition for the thrill it brings you. This is my goal for the future. I will not let another year go by without competing occasionally. I'll lose gracefully and savor my victory over those I've beaten. I won't let it consume me like it once did. Dammit! Racing is fun! I'm not going to lose sight of that again.