The Team // A Formula One AU

Nico

New York has been a very strange city. For one thing, we're staying in Manhattan, which is completely unnecessary considering the track is down in Queens. The bus journey through the rush hour traffic got old very quickly, but Tom won't let us take the subway.

"Breathe in, one, two, three...

Secondly, our shift in focus from physical to mental training makes no sense. Physical training is easy: You go to the gym, you eat well and you make sure to get enough sleep. But mental training is crazy. What does meditation have to do with racing?

"And breathe out. One, two, three, four..."

The other weird thing about this week is Gina. One by one we've all been called to her mysterious office on the sixth floor of a skyscraper to pour out our hearts and souls and whatever else is bothering us. As I sit here breathing in silence, surrounded by friends and rivals, my mind keeps wandering back to our session together yesterday.

"What's holding you back?"

"My kart. It's broken."

"Okay, but I mean what's holding you back."

How am I supposed to work that out? There certainly wasn't enough time in our session to start uncovering hidden insecurities and mental blocks. Besides, what I said is true, there is a fundamental problem with my kart that I haven't been able to find and solve yet. And sitting here doing breathing exercises isn't going to fix it.

"Do you enjoy being part of the team?"

Of course I do. I love the travelling, I love the jokes, I love spending time with such great people. I've made a close group of friends here in Checo, Seb and Fernando, and I know that I can happily hang out with almost anyone if they're busy. I love the team. But I know it's not the answer Gina wanted.

"Release the tension from all your muscles. Imagine you're rooted to the floor."

I know the answer Gina wanted. She wanted me to talk about racing, training, whether I think I'm improving. But I'm the only one in my group who hasn't scored points yet. My closest rival is Pierre, and he had a nightmare start to the season with his crash with Esteban on the very first day. I don't have any excuse.

I'm not improving.

"What's holding you back?"

Her voice echoes in my head like a hungry child crying for attention. I came tenth and sixth at the track in England so I know I'm capable of beating these guys. Sure, the karts are different and we're free to make our own changes to them, but I don't think my engineering skills are the problem. As much as it hurts to admit it, the fault with my kart probably isn't the problem either.

What's holding me back?

The crash.

I've been trying not to think about it, not to analyse the first race at all since I pulled myself out of my ruined kart. I was driving in the top five after a brilliant start, and against all the odds George was behind me. He's the best driver on the team, in my opinion, but Max had also worked his way forward to challenge for the podium. I was so close to a brilliant performance, so close to beating both of them on our debut, and then it all went wrong.

"Visualise yourself achieving your goal. Hold it in your mind as you breathe with me, in and out."

The floor feels very uncomfortable now. Every muscle fibre is telling me to move, escape, stop thinking about this.

Achieving my goal? My goal seems a very long way away right now.

The crash isn't just a bad memory, I feel embarrassed and guilty when I think about it. Ruining not just my own race but that of Max and George as well, after they already crashed the previous day in qualifying? I feel horrible. They deserved so much better.

"Do you think you deserved better?"

That's the hardest question. Our timer ran over and I never gave Gina an answer, but the look in her eyes showed she understood me anyway. That's what's holding me back. Not fear, not cautiousness, not a lack of belief in myself. It's that I'm not sure I deserve it anymore. For me to make such a fundamental and disastrous mistake shows that maybe I don't deserve to be here, maybe I do deserve to be at the back of the pack, maybe I'm the worst out of my friends, the least committed, the least hungry for victory.

And how can I win if I'm not certain that's what I want?

Everyone else is certain.

"What does success look like to you? Visualise success in your mind's eye. No plan, no action, just the success you dream about. How does that feel?"

I breathe slowly, bringing my attention back to the here and now. I know how success feels. I didn't end up racing for Fortress World Karting without winning a few races, pole positions and youth championships in my career.

Visualise success. How does that feel?

My shoulders finally relax. I lift up my chin and straighten my back as my hands unfurl in my lap. My forehead drops its tension and my jaw unclenches, finally. I know how success feels, I've done it before.

It's time to stop being a passenger. It's time to drive.