The week after Monza was the hardest of my racing career so far.
Not physically—Physical Peak handled the crash impact, leaving me sore but undamaged. Mentally though, I was struggling. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that moment: leading the race, feeling invincible, then the rear stepping out at 180 mph.
I couldn't sleep properly. Couldn't focus on training. Couldn't even enjoy cooking, which had always been therapeutic.
Dr. Renaud, my sports psychologist, called for an emergency session.
"Talk to me about Monza," she said.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I know. But we need to process this properly or it'll affect your racing going forward."
I was quiet for a long moment. "I had the win. I was driving perfectly. And it got taken away by something I couldn't control."
"Yes. That's the cruel reality of motorsport. Mechanical failures happen."
"But why then? Why when I was finally proving I could win at this level?"
"Random chance. There's no cosmic reason. But Lance, focus on what you proved that day—you're fast enough to pass George Russell and lead an F3 race. That's not nothing."
"It feels like nothing when the result is DNF."
"The result is DNF. But the performance was championship-level. Everyone in that paddock now knows you can win. Including you."
[Processing trauma: Necessary but difficult]
[Mental Fortress helping but not eliminating pain]
[This is part of becoming a complete driver]
The next race was at Silverstone, England. Two weeks to recover mentally and prepare. Prema had completely rebuilt my car, triple-checked every component, ensuring no repeat of Monza's failure.
"The car is perfect," Thomas assured me during testing. "Every system checked, every part verified. What happened at Monza won't happen again."
"You can't guarantee that."
"No. But we've done everything humanly possible to prevent it."
Testing times were good but not spectacular. I was fast but cautious, subconsciously holding back in high-speed corners where the suspension would be most stressed.
Thomas noticed. "You're lifting early through Copse and Maggots-Becketts. Data shows you have more speed available."
"I know."
"Then why aren't you using it?"
"Because last time I trusted the car at high speed, it broke and I crashed."
"Lance, you can't race scared. Fear will make you slow, and slow will make you irrelevant."
[Psychological impact: Affecting performance]
[Trust issues with equipment]
[Need to overcome or risk career stagnation]
Friday night before qualifying, I couldn't sleep. Lay in bed thinking about high-speed corners, suspension failures, crashes. The mental loop was exhausting.
At 2 AM, I gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen. Started making bread—something I hadn't attempted in months. Bread required patience, attention, time. No shortcuts, no rushing, just process.
Kneading the dough was meditative. The repetitive motion, the feel of flour and water becoming something cohesive, the smell of yeast activating. For the first time since Monza, my mind quieted.
By 4 AM, I had three perfect loaves of focaccia cooling on the counter. By 5 AM, I'd slept for two hours—not much, but something.
When I arrived at the track Saturday morning, I brought one loaf with me.
Marco, the Italian mechanic, saw it immediately. "You made bread? At what time?"
"Two in the morning. Couldn't sleep."
He broke off a piece, tasted it. "This is perfect focaccia. Proper Italian style. You made this because you were stressed?"
"Making bread helps me think."
"Most drivers who are stressed drink or break things. You make perfect focaccia." He laughed. "The Pit Lane Chef returns."
[Cooking as therapy: Effective]
[Team bonding continuing]
[Finding ways to cope with pressure]
Qualifying was the test. Could I trust the car through high-speed corners? Could I push through the fear?
My first flying lap was safe, conservative. P9. Not good enough.
Thomas radioed. "You have more speed. I can see it in the data. You're lifting where you shouldn't."
"I know."
"Then stop knowing and start driving. Trust the car. Trust yourself."
Second flying lap, I made a conscious decision. Trust. Commit. Race like Monza never happened.
Through Copse flat-out. Through Maggots-Becketts at maximum speed. Through Stowe without lifting. The car held, the suspension worked, everything was fine.
Crossed the line: P4.
[Qualifying: P4]
[Overcame fear]
[Trust restored]
Lando had qualified sixth, Raffaele eighth. George was on pole again. Louis second, a German driver named Marvin third.
In the garage, Thomas smiled. "That's more like it. You found the speed."
"Scared the hell out of me doing it."
"Good. That means you were actually pushing. Fear means you're at the limit."
[Fear acknowledged: Not eliminated but managed]
[Pushing through doubt is part of racing]
Race day brought typical English weather—cloudy with threat of rain. The forecast showed possible showers during the race, which could create chaos or opportunity depending on timing.
Pre-race, René Rosin gathered all Prema drivers. "Weather is unpredictable. Trust your engineers for strategy calls. Don't be heroes making your own decisions."
The start was clean. I held fourth through turn one as George immediately pulled away. This was familiar—George leading, everyone else fighting for remaining podium spots.
By lap five, light rain started. Not enough for wet tires, but enough to make the track slippery. Several drivers went off, recovering but losing time.
My Wet Weather Expert skill activated immediately. I could see where grip existed on the damp track, where to place the car for maximum traction. Started catching the drivers ahead.
[Lap 8: P4, gap to P3 closing]
[Rain advantage: Significant]
[Opportunity emerging]
Lap ten, passed Marvin for third. He'd been cautious in the damp, I'd been confident. Into third place, chasing Louis in second.
The rain intensified. Louis was fast but struggling slightly with the conditions. I was gaining half a second per lap.
Lap fifteen, caught him. Made the pass into Brooklands—took a tighter line with more confidence in the damp. He couldn't respond.
Second place. George was eight seconds ahead, untouchable. But second was a great recovery from Monza's heartbreak.
[Running P2]
[Podium secured if I finish]
[Ten laps remaining]
Then my radio crackled. Thomas's voice, urgent.
"Lance, we're seeing anomalies in rear suspension telemetry. Same sensor that failed at Monza is showing irregular readings."
My heart rate spiked. Not again. Not now.
"What should I do?"
"We don't know if it's the sensor or actual issue. You need to decide—back off and protect the finish, or maintain pace and risk another failure."
[Decision point: Safety vs performance]
[Trust the car or protect the result?]
[Mental test after Monza trauma]
I thought about Monza. About leading and losing. About fear and courage. About what kind of driver I wanted to be.
"I'm maintaining pace," I decided. "If it fails, it fails. But I'm not racing scared."
"Copy. We'll monitor."
The next eight laps were psychological warfare with myself. Every high-speed corner, I wondered if this was the moment the suspension would fail. Every bump, every curb, I felt for warning signs.
But the car held. The suspension worked. The telemetry anomaly was just a sensor glitch.
Crossed the line in second place.
[RACE COMPLETE: P2]
[PODIUM!]
[Points Earned: 18]
[Current Balance: 81 points]
Relief flooded through me. Not just for the result, but for trusting the car, pushing through fear, racing properly despite Monza's trauma.
On the podium, George sprayed champagne from the top step. "Good race," he said. "You were fast in the wet."
"Thanks. Thought the car was going to break again."
"But it didn't. And you kept pushing anyway. That's the difference between good drivers and great drivers—pushing through fear."
Louis was third, giving me a respectful nod. "Silverstone P2 after Monza DNF. Good mental recovery."
[Podium achieved through overcoming fear]
[Respect earned for mental strength]
[Character development: Significant]
In the paddock, Marco presented me with something—a small trophy made from spare parts. "The Pit Lane Chef's Courage Award," he announced to the garage. "For making perfect focaccia at 2 AM while stressed, then racing through fear to podium."
The team laughed and applauded. It was silly, but it meant something. Recognition that racing wasn't just about speed—it was about character, resilience, being human under pressure.
Lando had finished fifth, another solid result. He found me afterward.
"Heard about the suspension telemetry issue. That must have been terrifying after Monza."
"It was. But I kept pushing."
"That's what separates you from others. Most drivers would have backed off, protected the position. You raced through it." He paused. "Also heard about the 2 AM focaccia. Very on-brand for you."
"Couldn't sleep. Needed to do something with my hands."
"Most drivers would play video games or watch films. You make bread." He grinned. "It's weird, but it's you. Own it."
[Identity solidifying: The Pit Lane Chef who pushes through adversity]
[Uniqueness becoming strength]
That evening, Chloe video-called, beaming. "Second place! After everything!"
"Yeah. Feels good."
"It's more than good. You crashed hard at Monza, could have been scared forever, but you came back and got another podium. That's champion mentality."
"I'm not a champion yet."
"No. But you're becoming one. Step by step, race by race, heartbreak by heartbreak. That's how it works."
She showed me her scrapbook pages—Monza crash photos next to Silverstone podium photos. "See? The story isn't just about winning. It's about resilience. That's what makes it interesting."
[Chloe: Understanding narrative importance]
[Documenting complete journey, not just highlights]
[Story being built for future]
The System chimed in with an assessment.
[Silverstone Performance: Excellent mental recovery]
[Overcame fear, trusted equipment, raced through doubt]
[This is character-building moment]
[Points earned: 18]
[More importantly: Proved you can bounce back from heartbreak]
[Next challenges: Continue building toward first win]
[You're getting closer]
That night, I finally slept properly. No nightmares about crashes, no replaying Monza endlessly. Just rest.
The heartbreak still hurt. Monza's stolen victory still stung. But I'd proven something important: I could get back up. I could push through fear. I could race properly even when terrified.
That resilience would matter. Racing was full of setbacks, failures, heartbreaks. The outline predicted dozens of near-wins and painful losses. Monza was just the first.
But I'd learned the lesson: getting back up mattered more than never falling down.
[Character arc: Resilience established]
[Mental Fortress skill proving value]
[Foundation for future setbacks being built]
[Per outline: Learning through adversity]
To be continued...