Brought Up to Speed in Middle Age

Finally, Holman steps in front of my car and almost too casually signals with a thumb over his shoulder. I shift into first gear, then second, third and finally fourth, entering the second turn at 90 mph. The wind starts to circulate in the car and the heat abates somewhat.

The instructors have pointed out exactly where on the track you're supposed to be at any given moment. It's called "hitting your marks" and "finding your line." This helps maximize speed and keep you from flying off the banked curves and into the wall. With each successive lap, I accelerate and feel the force pushing me sideways into the car door and deeper into the seat. I become one with the machine and the noise and the pressure against my chest.

It's then that I notice the bead of sweat. My hands are glued to 10 and 2 o'clock on the wheel. I'm a heartbeat away from hitting the wall. Hard.

It's a "Star Wars" moment: "Do, or do not; there is no try."

"Feeling the force" only really ever meant letting yourself go in the moment and trusting that your hands will guide you. When you put everything else aside, there's only you and your marks and your line around the track. And so I careen into Turn 3 with only one eye open as I drive down into my mark to enter Turn 4. A few weeks earlier, NASCAR drivers were skidding across this most treacherous stretch of newly resurfaced track, crashing into the wall.

Bryan Howland, at 18 the youngest member of our team, has more racing experience than any of us. He's a champion in the Sprint Car dirt-track racing circuit in New York, and his father has brought him down here for some big-league experience. We're paired together when it comes time to learn the art of "drafting," a racing version of tailgating. You hope the person in front doesn't "check up," or slow suddenly. At such high speeds, even with the quickest reaction, you'll plow into him and send both of you spinning. Bryan doesn't and we don't.

The driving course is about more than learning to handle a race car. "It teaches people to reach inside and get the most out of their abilities, and learn how to trust each other and work as a team," Holman says. "And someone that may not have as much confidence in themselves will develop that over the course of the experience."

I slingshot out of Turn 4 and barrel down the straightaway. Hitting my marks. Finding my line.

Afterward, friends will ask what it was like; more specifically, "How fast?"

There are numbers to represent what I experienced. But there are no figures that tally what I learned about myself and pushing my limits; my need to feel alive. What I brought back has very little to do with speed and everything to do with being in the moment. Finding pleasure in my ability to navigate each turn in the track. Knowing there will be others. Taking them in stride. The lessons remain with me as I change lanes on the Beltway or negotiate the curves of Military Road or perform an evasive maneuver in heavy traffic. At one behind the wheel.