Is Always Close at Heart
Foreword
I like to win.
As a kid, growing up in Canada, I knew I was born to race. I love to compete, I love to go fast, I love to say “yes” to life. And I was willing to do whatever it took to go full speed ahead toward my goal of competing in the Indianapolis 500.
Eight years of passion and persistence made my debut in the Indianapolis 500 in 2011 possible. Life was moving fast: I was recognized as the IndyCar Series Rookie of the Year. In 2012, I was voted Favorite Driver by IndyCar Series fans. Open‐wheel racing was my new home. I was living my dream life at 230 miles per hour. I started 2015 with a new team. We won the Grand Prix of New Orleans in only our second race together. Things were going great. In May of that year, I was driving at Indianapolis once again. Race day at the Indy 500 was in my sights.
Until I came around turn number three.
That practice day started out like any other. The sun was shining, the track was clear, and I was working to perfect my car for the “greatest spectacle in racing.” There was some light traffic and I was running behind a driver by the name of Montoya. I came into turn three at about 225 miles per hour. What happened next no one could have predicted.
In my business, I work hard to maintain perfection. To keep control. To make sure that I'm doing everything I can to keep that car going where I want it to go. But, in spite of my best efforts, something happened in the turn. Something beyond my control.
I don't remember exactly what transpired. The video shows that I was conscious after the crash, but I don't remember being in the car and bobbing my head as the crumpled chassis lay crushed on the pavement while the rescue crews came onto the track to pull me from the car. I learned about my new normal when I woke up in the hospital. I was hooked to machines and surrounded by family, friends, and doctors. I couldn't speak because of the tube down my throat. I had to communicate with a pen and a piece of paper. They told me what happened. And then I watched the videos.
In an instant, a piece of the suspension broke and pierced the chassis, sending me into the retaining wall. The accident was a mechanical failure. Probably some metallurgical issue that happened six months ago – who knows? – when the suspension was built 4,000 miles away from Indianapolis Motor Speedway. When the suspension failed, the car careened into the wall, forcing a metal shaft into my right thigh and striking my femoral artery on its way out of my left side. The piece that impaled me (that's a weird word to write about yourself) was connected to the car. Basically, I was a shish kebab.
In order to pull me out, they had to remove the metal shaft from my body – leaving a hole that my doctor said was big enough for him to insert his whole fist inside. Luckily, Indiana University Methodist Hospital was just a four‐minute drive away – the police cleared the streets and the ambulance drivers told me they made it in 2:47. Not only was their speed impressive, it probably saved my life.
I had two complete blood transfusions before I even went into the operating room. My heart stopped. The doctors thought I would code before they could even get me into surgery.
Hey, let me stop for a minute. This isn't a foreword about an injury: it's a foreword about a recovery. Because that's what Karen's book is all about.
I realized that the only response to a setback is a comeback. If you're holding this book, right now, you know that's true. You're interested in getting back on track.
What's the fastest way to get back into a race car? I asked my doctor. He told me the thing I couldn't stand to hear: Do nothing. Can you imagine going from 230 miles per hour in your day job to an absolute standstill? To put it mildly: I didn't like it. But I did it. If I was going to do nothing, I was going to do nothing better than anybody. That's just how I'm wired.
Soon, my doctor told me I could try to walk again (yes, that's right: I had to be allowed to walk). That first day, they said I could only take a maximum – a maximum – of 600 steps. I listened to the five words I never want to hear: “You have to start slow.”
Soon 600 steps led to 800 steps, and that led to physical therapy and a lot of other day‐to‐day stuff that was uncomfortable, difficult, grueling, and … well, everything you imagine it to be. They say in racing that you have to move slow to go fast. Now, out of the car, those words had never been truer.
Because trying to go faster is how most of us live our lives, right? Racing from one commitment to the next. From one thought to the next. Trying to shave seconds off every task in our own race against the clock. When you can't do what you used to do, because of unexpected circumstances, you don't want to go slow. But in order to make a comeback, you have to shift your mindset. You have to be open to seeing things in a new way.
There were two words that came into my life when I was in recovery. I said these words to my doctors, my family, and myself. I still do. Here they are: #ChallengeAccepted.
Life happens. The global pandemic happened. Nobody wanted it. Nobody asked for it. But, here we are. Challenge. Accepted.
We have to accept the challenge that life has given us. This book is going to give you the pole position on conquering those challenges. This book will give you a fresh perspective on the new normal. Karen will show you how to make working from home work for you.
In less than 18 months, I was walking, training, and driving better than before. Not only did I improve on everything I did before the accident, I also learned something new. I learned to dance. I became a contestant on the 2016 season of Dancing with the Stars. Did I ever think I would be doing the jive and the Viennese Waltz in front of a national television audience? Well, it was another unexpected series of events. I said, “Challenge accepted.” My dance partner, Sharna Burgess, and I made it to the top two . . . but came in as runners‐up. When one of the judges said I was the best male dancer they had ever had on the show, I was so grateful and honored and . . . blown away. I realized something in that moment: the past does not define us. Are you with me?
Today, I'm back to racing – I just ran at the Texas Motor Speedway in front of zero fans. And yes, it was strange. People ask me if I'm nervous when I get back in the car. I tell them that love is stronger than fear. I tell them that I can't let what happened to me keep me from being who I am. I tell them I want to win. Nerves, fear, disappointment, and surprises are part of the game of life. But so is victory. So is learning to dance in ways you never thought you could. Are you ready to get on the right track?
Life hands all of us unexpected circumstances. Luckily it also hands us courage. And passion. And the ability to choose how we react to whatever we've got. That's what Karen knows, and shares, in this book.
Getting back to work is hard in the new normal. Believe me, I know how that feels – we are all making adjustments and finding out what adaptability really means. Karen will show you how to adapt. How to shift into a new approach to success – because victory might be closer than you think.
Even when the unexpected knocks you out of the race, you can still bounce back. Even from a global setback. That's how human beings are wired.
It's time to start your engines. And maybe even learn some new choreography.
Something that may have started far away from where you are has forced you into unexpected circumstances. You find yourself in a situation that makes you say, “I never wanted this.” You know what I mean?
I think we all do.
Through
