      It is massive. Inside its oval you could fit Yankee Stadium, the Rose Bowl, Churchill Downs, the Colosseum and all of Vatican City.
           It is the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, site of the most watched single day sporting event; the Indianapolis 500. Held on Memorial Day weekend in Indiana, the Indy 500 features the 33 fastest qualifying cars racing around a 2½ mile oval at speeds of 220 mph to see who will grab the checkered flag, pocket a big payday and go down in history as a champion of this storied race.
           I was so pumped for this year's race. Even more than usual. I can't say for sure how old I was the first time I watched the race, I only know I don't remember a time when I didn't. The well of memories run deep since this was an event I would watch with my dad. After he passed away my sister and I continued the tradition and I freely admit there is very little that could ever cause us to miss it.
           But this year was going to be even better because I'd be watching through the lens of having seen the venue. My husband and I were in Indianapolis last August and although it wasn't the reason for being in the city, there was no way I was going to miss out on a trip to the speedway. We took the tour, completed a lap of the oval and (almost) carried on the tradition of kissing the bricks. The speedway is affectionately known as The Brickyard since the original track was made of 3.2 million bricks. It was long ago re-surfaced but the start/finish line maintains the original 1909 bricks. I couldn't bring myself to actually touch the bricks with my lips but I got as close as I could without actual contact.
           So this past Sunday was supposed to be race day and I was to be looking at the track, the stands, pit lane and pole with far more informed and appreciative eyes. Mysister and I would be wearing new merchandise because, yes…I bought the t-shirts. But the Indy 500, like every other event, has been postponed. (They re-broadcast last year's race on Sunday. Yes, I watched it. Let the eye rolling begin.)
           I don't know any others who follow this race. Despite viewing numbers in the millions, no one I know even talks about it. In fact, people have questioned my fascination with it since all they see is the monotony of drivers going round and round; lap after lap. They're not wrong. But what they miss is that you never know what might happen on each subsequent lap.
           Those edge of your seat moments were going to be all the more palpable because I'd been there. I'd even experienced some racing. Not the big race of course, but on one of the two days at the speedway (yes, we went twice—my husband is a saint) we took in a day of racing that included events for vintage cars. I heard the roar and felt the rush. I took it all in and stored it all up. I was ready for May.
           So were the drivers, mechanics, crew chiefs and managers. They had a race plan that every member of the pit crew prepared and practiced. Yet as much as they knew what their strategy was, they were aware that, like everything in life, it would require flexibility and adaptation to respond to what happened in real time.
           Just when we find a way to maneuver with precision, we are tossed unexpected caution flags. There are interruptions that require course corrections, and sometimes we will be forced to move at speeds faster than we are comfortable with, or slower than we would wish. Mistakes will happen that will cause problems and pitfalls. But we continue on through the curves and straightaways, lap by lap, day by day, adjusting and adapting to whatever comes next, and acknowledging those on the track with us making it possible.
           Because at its core more and more of us are learning that it's not about any trophy we might win or pay cheque we can cash, but far more about the people who are part of our pit crew, helping us navigate whatever comes next. That's a far bigger prize than any checkered flag will ever be. That's my outlook.
