Short really surprising me...these last 2 weeks

Answers:

The Dude LOVES the new bike.

It was food poisoning. His wife got it, too; but, thankfully got over it a bit quicker. They know what it was and where they ate it.

He is wearing his Two-Tone A-Stars. I think they're very cool & it's easy to keep an eye on him he he wears them, too. They're painted and the paint stays on. I pressure sprayed'em and the paint holds up pretty well.

From CoachSeiji.com (Andrew's Trainer, Coach & Good Friend...& an awesome Moto-Trainer)

"What happened to Andrew?”

I got that text, email or voice mail all day yesterday, the Monday after Daytona. Obviously, if you were watching and took the race at face value, Shorty got the hole shot in the main, led for half the race, then faded back to 12th. If that is what you saw, you are only seeing the tip of the iceberg and are missing the true meaning. This isn’t an angered retort or a list of excuses. This is my brain bubble every time I saw, read or heard that question.

Andrew executed the Atlanta 2 weekend to perfection. He calmly handled everything that was under his control at the time with 100% effort. Nothing was left, no rock was left unturned. Andrew suffered from a ridiculously angry bout of food poisoning the week before Atlanta 2. He threw up for half a day, suffered through the rest of the week, not being able to eat, and headed to the race. If he wasn’t in a practice, he was upstairs in the truck, lying down, completely dysfunctional. He couldn’t go out for the autograph session and he couldn’t eat normally. Ideally, he would transfer to the main from his heat to eliminate total laps he would have to endure. He gutted up and did exactly that, an amazing performance all by itself. He fell in the first lap of the main, picked up his bike in dead, dead last and gave it all to the race to salvage a 15th. He immediately threw up and could only sit. Nothing left, nothing at all. He could not have done one thing better in my opinion. I was proud.

The following week was total recovery. He couldn’t do much, the effects of illness and depletion from the race lingering. He stayed focused on the job at hand and remained positive. Then Daytona travel day, the craziest travel day I have ever had as a professional. Our 8:05 am flight eventually became a 7:30 pm flight. Andrew remained calm and positive throughout until it became impossible to get to Daytona by air. Then the goal was to just get to Atlanta, possibly driving from there to arrive at the race at 7 am. Luckily I connected with a private pilot friend and we boarded a single engine Piper at 8 pm and arrived at the race hotel at 3:30 am. We made the race in the morning, remiaining optimistic on the day. Andrew again executed perfectly, getting the hole shot and leading the heat, ultimately finishing 2nd, then getting the hole shot in the main and leading for half the race. Then, it all caught up and if you watched the race, that is what you saw, a fading to 12th.

That is not what I saw. I saw a guy, beaten down and dealt a bad hand take the challenges on without complaint. I saw an athlete, battle sickness, lack of sleep, and his own mind to do the best he could. The storm was raging, the body was wilting and the mind was wavering, yet he gave it his all until there was absolutely nothing left. For two weeks in a row. And I realized, that this is the way it is all the time, no matter the circumstances. Through the L & Mc debacle, through Hudson’s eye challenges, through broken elbows and promises. This isn’t a “remarkable performance,” this is character shining through when it’s all clouds but is still there when the sun is shining. THAT is what happened at Daytona and Atlanta.

As a sports trainer, I too can get caught up in results, where very little is actually in your control. As a participant in life, and now a father, I cannot overstate how well Andrew has done. When this small part of our lives is over, when sports are nothing but a fond memory and the trophies are collecting dust, its these efforts, these fights, that make us who we are and what we pass down to our kids. You can’t pass a win or championship down. What you can pass down is what makes you a champion, the qualities and character. I have been a professional trainer for 20 years and these last two weeks have been my proudest moments. In our futures, results won’t matter but character will forever affect our lives and the lives of others.

Champions are made on the bad days, and he’s the champ in my book and there are many more that you can’t see unless you look under the surface. No go out there and be a champion!


- See more at: http://www.coachseiji.com/coach-seiji-news/260-what-happened-to-andrew#…

Nice

The guy can shred a start no matter how he's Feelin'...