Get Out / Get In

Get Out

Love and Fear Coexsist in this sport.

Get out.

Get the hell out.

Now.

While you still can.

While your heart’s steady and your head’s clear.

Fill your lungs with the air around you—and go.

Because this?

This is dangerous.

There’s no sugarcoating the severity of the game we play. No one walks away from this ride without some kind of scar—physical, emotional, or both.

It can break bones. It can break hearts. It can steal the breath from your chest and leave families forever changed.

And still, we show up.

I could tell you horror story after horror story.

I could list the names—too many names—of those we’ve lost.

I could describe the silence that falls over a track when something goes wrong.

I could show you the memorial stickers, the tribute jerseys, the parents who still come to the races because it’s all they have left of the world they once knew.

And still—we come back.

Because it’s not just a sport. It’s a lifeblood.

It’s a connection so deep that no amount of fear can sever it.

And sometimes, when you love something this much… the risk is just part of the story.

But I’ll say it anyway—if you can get out, get out.

Before it owns your weekends.

Before it buries into your soul.

Before you fall in love with something that doesn’t always love you back.

But if you’ve already tasted it…

You know you’re not going anywhere.

Get In

The rally cry.

Maybe it’s not about getting out. Maybe it’s about getting in.

You don’t have to be the one twisting the throttle to be all in.

This sport grabs hold of entire families. It seeps into your routines, your conversations, your calendars, and your weekends. It gets under your skin and settles deep into your bones until it becomes part of your identity—whether you’re flying over tabletops or packing lunches and double-checking gear bags before sunrise.

Motocross isn’t just about the rider.

It’s about the mom whispering you got this through chain-link fences.

The dad pacing at the gate with a pounding heart.

The siblings giving up their Saturdays to chase dirt and dreams.

The friends, the partners, the pit crew of people who live this life right alongside the racer.

It’s about shared grit. Shared joy. Shared heartache.

It’s a lifestyle. A family affair. A full-body, full-spirit commitment.

The first time you step onto the grounds of a big race, you can feel it.

The hum in the air.

The buzz of energy between trailers.

The smell of race fuel and smoldered campfire clinging to the breeze.

It’s electric.

It’s sacred.

This isn’t just chasing trophies.

It’s chasing growth. Adrenaline. Freedom.

It’s riding your own rollercoaster into the best version of yourself.

And yeah, sometimes the move is to send it with your eyes closed and hope for the best.

Because that’s motocross.

So maybe it’s not get out.

Maybe it’s get in.

Run toward it.

Toward your goals.

Toward the unknown.

Follow your gut.

Chase what lights your brain on fire.

Because knowing the risks, well, it makes the checkered flag that much sweeter.

See you Sunday,

MotoMom

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