Star struck. Impressed. Inspired. These are the words that described me after meeting Ashley Freiberg. A couple of weeks ago, I returned from a long training block in the West to find a letter waiting for me. I opened it to find a handwritten note from a man who lived just down the hill from Stratton. He had read my column in The Manchester Journal and thought I would be interested in meeting one of his athletes. He told me her name was Ashley Freiberg, that she was a successful professional racecar driver, that I should google her and consider interviewing her.
About thirty seconds into my internet search, I knew Freiberg was my kind of woman. At 21, she’s won multiple national titles and race series, working her way up the rankings of professional car racing every year and well on her way to more podiums. From her writing and interviews, I could tell that she had faced societal pressures against her passion with the kind of kickass attitude I hope my columns can cultivate. And she drives cars really, really fast. Copied below is the result of my interview with her.
Her reactions to these kinds of maneuvers are resilient and professional.
“When someone has you up against wall, you just have to show them: I’m not moving,” she said.
She told me that from the start, competing against men was just a part of the game. Her male opponents usually get more wrapped up in her gender than she does, especially once she started winning.
“I love to inspire other people, especially young girls,” she told me after I asked her about the best part of standing atop a traditionally male podium. “When I see young girls at a track, they remind me of myself. I’m doing it for them. We need more women out there.”
As we continued our interview, I couldn’t help but comment on our similar athletic experiences. Walking in, I never could have drawn a parallel between professional car racing and Nordic skiing. Instead, I found a great deal of solidarity with this woman doing just what I do: competing as a female athlete.
Like me, she trains full time, lifting, running and practicing her coordination and mental fortitude. She spends hours practicing with race simulators (because the cost to actually drive is far too high), and makes a point to tune the details, like mental focus and eye reactivity. Her fitness allowed her to race the New York Marathon last weekend after only a month of formal training.
In order to withstand the gravitational forces of a racecar (one turn can essentially multiply a driver’s experience of gravity by five) and endure the heat of the car (over 120 degrees), Freiberg maintains a steady regimen of strength and aerobic training. Such tough conditions were used as an excuse to keep women out of racing in the early days of the sport, as men stated that the female frame could not withstand any such stress. Freiberg has proven otherwise.
I asked her how she approached the expectation of being female and that of being an athlete. In my experience, it seems that many female athletes struggle with the ideological crossroads of identifying both as female and athletically competitive. Some prefer to compensate with visual and vocal flashes of femininity, others abandon the cultural female ideal altogether.
Essentially, I asked Freiberg which comes first: female or driver?
“Driver, hands down,” she responded without hesitation. “I’m a strong believer that people are people.”
She said that when they line up for a race, she and her competitors are not men and women, they are people. They are drivers. At this point in the interview, I had to have had an embarrassing large smile plastered to my face. Then she proceeded to describe what it’s like to sit behind a wheel for 45 minutes driving at max speed and I was hooked, head over heals, completely in love with this girl, or, rather, her approach to racing.
“You get lost in it,” she started, “It demands all of your focus. You get so lost in the moment you become one with your car. I love getting lost in it, knowing that I’m driving on the limit is extremely satisfying.”
“Scary limit.” I commented. She shrugged and corrected herself.
“A lot of people think driving racecars is a really risky thing, like you’re fighting for your life the entire time. In reality, it’s like a chess game on wheels; you’re strategizing and thinking ahead – it’s more of a delicate task, and in some ways it’s quite peaceful.”
She nailed it. She had described the feelings I’ve had on my racecourses, tracks and soccer fields. They are those that appear on gym floors, pool waters and clay courts everywhere. That peace, that nirvana, that can only be found at the height of competition, when you’ve got nothing left to give, that’s what we’re fighting for.
Ashley Freiberg understands the fight. Every year, she fights for the right to compete without discrimination not only on the track, but also for sponsorships and endorsements.
To afford to compete, she must raise at least $1 million and hope that nothing serious goes wrong mechanically. It seems the driving is the easy part; her chances of winning those competitions far outweigh those outside of the track.
Pursuing your passion is particularly challenging when society doesn’t believe in it.
“There are so many possibilities for me,” Freiberg said. “I’ve been able to prove through my racing that I can defy what others think is not right.”
She will continue to do so. I think I’ll make that my plan, too.
Also, this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5R7LdxU0o9I