My whole life, I was surrounded by race boats, motors, and lakes. My father started racing when I was a very young girl and my grandfather raced boats as well. I knew I wanted to race boats just like them. When I received my first race boat, I was on top of the moon. I couldn’t wait to get on the water. I raced for 4 years and won 10 awards. I felt like I was top of the world. Whenever I win or lose, I loved being on the water and getting competitive. My father warned me that this sport is dangerous, and I have seen some pretty nasty accidents on the water. I thought to myself I can only get a couple cuts and bruises. Little did I know, I was wrong. Going into my fifth year of racing, I was so excited to run a new class. We practiced and practiced the day before the first race of the season, and I loved the boat. The speed and the ride was awesome.
The next day, my friends and I were sitting in the drivers’ meeting and listening to the referee on safety hazards and issues. It always crossed my mind that one of us could get hurt at any race but we still continued on with our race minds. My class was the second class of the day, and I was getting so excited and nervous to get into the new boat. I hopped in and ran the first three laps. I came back to the pit area, and I told my father that this was awesome. I couldn’t wait to go back out for the second heat. As we filled the tank with gas, my father patted my back and said be careful and good luck. The horn blared from the bank, and we fired our motors. Two other racers and I were meddling around the course, and we waited for the clock to start. As the clock started, I got myself lined up and ready to run. At that moment, I realized I was early, so I turned around but it was too late to hit the clock. I ran into the first turn, and all I saw was rough waters.
After my body tumbled and tossed around, I came back up on top of the water and told myself I’m okay. Then I saw red waters around me, and I realized I’m in trouble. I lifted my hands up and realized that both of my hands were cut up. My left hand was open on the top but my right hand was hanging over. Immediately, I went into panic mood but I told myself you need to stay focused so you can get help. The people in the turn boat rushed to me, pulled me out of the water, and ran to the shore as fast as they can. Next thing I knew, I was laying on the surgery table with a bright light shining in my eyes. The anesthesiologist placed a mask on my nose and I drifted off into a dark world.
Three surgeries later, countless physical therapy sessions, many stitches, and miserable pain pills, I am so thankful to have a working hand. Not only do I have a changed view on racing, I have a changed view on life. I am no longer the girl who didn’t think traumatic accidents can happen to me. I am no longer the girl who feared situations. I am no longer the girl who once had two perfect hands. But that’s alright because it gave me a story. It gave me battle scars. It gave me a new meaning of life. Last but not least, it gave me a closer relationship to God. I didn’t have a perfect journey if that's what you were thinking. I spent countless nights crying because I was in pain, many moments giving up, faced many mental issues that affect my self-esteem and got angry at myself, but it made me stronger. It made me bold. It made me who I am today.
Thank you to my family, my friends, my racing family, the doctors and physical therapists, my church family, and everyone else for helping me get through the challenging time.
If you are questioning about me racing again, I will be back on the water. I am the girl who is fearless.
