I can really relate to Metal Mulisha, because even now, I'm still stigmatized by society for my lifestyle. I'm not offended by it at all. I understand why people react the way they do when I tell them about my adventures in extreme sports. But it's still annoying when people say something like, "Shouldn't you be doing something else with your life? Motocross, sparring, hunting, etc, is too dangerous!"

I'm well aware of the risks. I've been kept awake at night by the throbbing pain of an injury. I've walked away gushing blood, limping, breathing heavy, etc. I've gotten scars from my injuries. I've seen my life flash before my eyes. I've gotten the wind knocked out of me. I've seen stars and temporarily lost vision thanks to adrenaline flushing out of my body. I've come home looking like a cheetah or a paint horse from all the bruises. I even broke my toe while surfing in California. Yet, I'm still very much into extreme sports, because they keep me alive and they keep me well. They force my lungs into overdrive, as well as my heart, and every other muscle in my body, numbing the pain with adrenaline, and keeping me strong and ensuring good health. Injuries don't equal illness. Attitude however, does. 

Clarke grew up with a lot of the guys who ended up in groups like Metal Mulisha, so he understands the psychology and personalities of extreme sports athletes. He grew up snapping snowboards, breaking bones, sabotaging snowmobiles, destroying dirtbikes, and slicing skin doing dumb and dangerous stunts for fun. He went semi-pro in snowboarding and opened up a snowboard shop in a Canadian mountain town, which was Red Bull sponsored and where a lot of his professional friends came by for custom snowboards. But Clarke decided he wanted a family, so he raised a few Canadian kids, sold his shop, moved to the states, became a roughneck, met my mom, had my brother, and the rest is history. 

Clarke's never been pushy about getting me into extreme sports, but he's been telling me stories about it since he met me when I was five. His stories, on top of all of his cool sports-related things, and the encouragement I got from him, drove me into extreme sports, especially later on.

Clarke had me get a taste of his lifestyle every now and then when I was little. I have countless memories of either riding in the back or the front of his ATV, from the high plains of Colorado, to the mountainous woods of Priest Lake, Idaho. I'd wear the smallest helmet and biggest hoodie Clarke could find, and hang on as we wound around wooded trails and did small jumps over prairie dog mounds. I experienced the thrill of extreme sports long before I actually got into them. 

I'm in the white helmet behind Clarke. My brother is the kid in the front, and my brother's half-sister, Hannah, is the kid to the right. This was in Idaho.

Clarke also tried getting me to ice skate in hopes of teaching me how to play hockey, but I never caught onto it. Much like a lot of things, I couldn't keep my balance on the skates, and I definitely wasn't very fast, so I quickly lost interest. The same went for skateboarding, rollerskating, BMX-riding, snowboarding, and skiing. I'm just not made for those kinds of sports, but Clarke reassured me that it's ok, and there was definitely something out there for me I just hadn't discovered yet. 

Clarke was right; there was something out there for me. Once I found it, I was hooked for life. Motocross isn't just a passion. It's heaven. It's hell. It's everything in between. I love the adventure and the thrill. I know it's very dangerous, and any ride could end my life, but I have enough trust in myself, my dirtbike, my gear, and especially God to keep me alive. There's a reason why I bow my head over the handlebars in prayer before every ride.  

Now, Clarke teaches me how to do dirtbike tricks, still has a ton of custom snowboards, most of which hang on the walls of his house next to his favorite autographed jerseys, and is really fun and easy to beat in Mario Kart. He's often gone on the oil rigs, but he's never too far away or gone for too long. He always returns home, and always has another "I almost died" or *insert insane thing here* story to share.

Clarke's body is pretty wrecked from all the stuff he's put it through, but that makes it easier for me to relate to him. We both have liver, digestion, and sinus issues, so we both have incredibly strong stomachs and immature, twisted humor. I won't share the humor here, but let's just say it's usually too offensive in every way possible for anyone on the outside to appreciate. But they're just jokes and pranks, and they de-fang illness, pain, and fear for a time, which makes life bearable. 

Most of the athletes who were huge in the 1990s are wrecked too, due to the injuries they suffered or the issues they were born with. Twitch was born twitchy. Bruce Cook paralyzed himself after failing a dirtbike backflip, but was back on a modified dirtbike a year later. Wheelz was born with Spina Bifida but rides around in a wheelchair that's built for the skate park. Darius Glover broke his back on a dirtbike track, but, like Bruce Cook, came back a year later strapped on for the ride, and I could go on and on. The thing is, you will crash and get hurt in the world of extreme sports, and you'll probably either come in screwed up or retire screwed up, but a real athlete never quits. 

Even better, the athletes Clarke is friends with are incredibly nice and caring. One of the baseball players reached out to Clarke with several autographed jerseys and baseballs. A jersey and a baseball went to my brother, and the rest were auctioned off to raise money for Cystic Fibrosis like the player wanted. A couple of athletes supplied me with wild game before I could hunt to keep myself alive. And of course, they can't help but send Clarke autographs and official gear only sponsors and athletes get, some of which are handed over to me. 

In the world of sports, especially extreme sports, the sense of community is strong, unlike schoolyard sports. Strangers help out strangers. No one makes fun of someone else, unless it's a joke and they know each other well. We've all been that new rider on a miniature dirtbike who rides with their feet sticking out so they can catch themselves. We've all wussed out of a track, trail, or trick. We've all been completely clueless when we've tried to do our own mechanical work. So, instead of looking down upon others, the motocross community and communities like it lift them up. Strangers and family members alike become mechanics, teachers, and coaches.