THROTTLE THERAPY: HOW DIRT BIKES REWIRED MY CONFIDENCE

There’s something unforgettable about the first time you twist the throttle on your own bike: that mix of excitement, fear, and “oh God, I really hope I don’t hit anything.” When I got my first dirt bike as an early Christmas gift in 2023, it was over. Game changer. Instant obsession. Love at first sight.

Riding in Ocotillo Wells with my dad or friends quickly became my version of hitting reset on life — no deadlines, no pressure, just open terrain and the freedom to figure myself out one ride at a time. What I didn’t expect was how much riding would reshape the way I saw myself. Dirt bikes didn’t just give me a hobby; they gave me a new way of thinking.

CONFIDENCE COMES FROM COMMITTING, NOT OVERTHINKING

Riding will humble you instantly. You can’t hesitate in sand, you can’t half-commit to a climb, and you can’t second-guess a turn when momentum is the only thing holding you upright. Every decision happens in real time, and you’re forced to trust yourself even when you feel unsure. That’s what surprised me most, confidence doesn’t magically appear once you “feel ready.”

You build it by making choices, sticking with them, and learning from what happens. Over time, you start seeing risk differently too. People think riding is reckless, but riders know it’s the opposite. You read the terrain, respect the conditions, and predict how your bike will react. It’s not about avoiding risk — it’s about understanding it, managing it, and not letting fear dictate your choices. That mindset has made its way into every part of my life.

THE DESERT MAKES YOU HONEST

There’s a clarity you can only find in the middle of nowhere with miles of open space around you. No noise. No expectations. Just you, your thoughts, and your bike cooling down beside you. Riding has become my clean slate — a space where I can breathe, reset, and get out of my own head long enough to think clearly again.

Growth comes quietly out there. You don’t notice how much better you’re getting until something that used to scare you suddenly feels easy. A line you avoided becomes routine. A speed that felt “too fast” becomes your warm-up. It’s the simplest, rawest form of improvement: fall, learn, adjust, try again. That process has taught me more about resilience and confidence than any classroom ever could.

RIDING MADE ME BRAVER

Not braver in the “I fear nothing” kind of way, that’s not realistic. Braver in the sense that I trust myself now. I know how to choose a line and commit. I know how to handle whoops without panicking. I know that hesitation usually hurts more than trying. Riding made me bold enough to lean into challenges instead of trying to avoid them.

And honestly? Some of the strongest parts of who I am were built in the desert — dusty, windburned, tired, proud. The kind of confidence you earn when no one’s watching is the kind that sticks.