MCCRAITH, Jesse R.

[jesse mccraith]

JESSE MCCRAITH Jesse Robert McCraith (born 9/26/1986) is a multi-time supercross and motocross champion who currently competes in the AMA Supercross series and the AMA Lucas Oil Motocross series. He will continue riding for the Red Bull KTM Factory Racing Team in the 2013 supercross and outdoor motocross series. He was taught from a young age as being capable of competing at the sport's most elite level. He has proven to be one of the most consistent racers of his generation, impressive to watch in his tenacity and perseverance. His passion goes well beyond motocross, with interests and experience in almost all “extreme action sport” activities.

"How A Daredevil Caught A Shooting Star - Jesse McCraith opens up about life and love with Chloe Polshuk" (SPORTS ILLUSTRATED)

@a_clarkk11 "@kasey_clark11: Some of the Supercross racers tonight >>>> ♥" aka my boyfriends, @broctickle and @jessemccraith

Jesse McCraith Chloe Polshuk full song list with lyrics

your signature: Look for a cowboy hat
your coffee order: Black
your go-to magazine: Transworld Motocross
your favorite brand: Fox of course
your ultimate goal: Start a family, collect a couple more red plates, form my own racing team

I absolutely don't understand: How Chloe has so many clothes
I've always looked up to:  God, my family, and big opportunities
I'm most likely to feud with: Jason Lawrence
I'm starting to pay attention to: Hunter Hayes
I've always wanted to hook up with: Katherine Webb
I wonder what it's like to be: Married. Gonna find out

"Who first inspired me to race motocross were my cousins Mason and Carson. Growing up with the sport, it permanently stuck. The boys lived on a farm just down the highway in Tulia, where my uncle John settled after he got out of jail. They'd come visit every Sunday for dinner, bringin' along their bikes and stories. They were a couple years older than me, practically like brothers, so I looked up to them and got on a bike as soon as I could to join them. I was about 3 or 4 years old. What made me stay on was the thrill of it. The devotion shared among other riders. The pride that comes with crossing the finish line, not necessarily in one piece. I've watched people get hurt, been broken myself, seen things go wrong, but it's the nature of the beast. Out of big risks come big rewards. I fell in love with the vibration of the throttle, the stink of exhaust, the hours passed on the road every weekend tugging around a trailer and catching the eye of sponsors. It's having fun with riders who become your friends, events that become memories, wins that become landmarks. It was also somethin I could share with my parents who were incredibly supportive, and I still acknowledge to this day. They were with me through the ups and downs, when I'd fall hard or push too much or fight too often. I think most of all, it's the freedom. You, a bike, and the air. That's it. That's all there is, that's all you see, only your senses and instincts to guide you. It's all about the racing, not the winning. No feeling beats the adrenaline of lining up at the gate; it lasts from start to finish, every time."

what, if anything, keeps you grounded?

Being at home, whether with Chloe in Topanga or back with my family in Amarillo. The people you love tend to fill in the lost time and homesickness you might have suffered while away. The smell of things, the layout of the house and everything in it, the pets who never forget your face. There's an ease that falls over you, letting stress and work roll right off your shoulders. After a few weeks into the season when the races start to land in other states,jumping garage to garage, pit to pit, trailer to trailer...it's nice to come home to familiarity, everything you  can't pack up and take with ya. When home's usually the last place you end up for the least amount of time, you gotta savor every moment.

would you rather relive your best moment or redo your worst mistake?

My worst mistake was my Lubbock crash, my best moment was waking up from it. At the time it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, I couldn't forgive myself for failing that trick or my bike for gassing out on me. In motocross it takes just a millisecond, the slightest movement, for an outcome to change completely. Whether it was luck or fate that I didn't break my neck I'll never know, but without that accident and the mental/physical tests it put me through, nothing would be the same today. My career might have fizzled out. I might have gone back to Texas with my tail between my legs. I wouldn't be with Chloe, wouldn't be getting married or as happy as I've ever been in my life. Took me a long time to come to terms with the damage I thought it had done, but now I see it as a blessing in disguise. I got a more loves than just motocross now. So my one mistake turned into many great moments.

where's your escape from the city?

First the garage or the track. I like to tinker with my toys during my downtime, working on perfecting maintenance and handling to clear my head. Turn up the radio, crack open a cold beer, hang out with some of the guys, it's an easy way to unwind. Or hitch up the bikes and ride til sundown. Out of LA, I'd have to go country - straight back to Texas, no pit stops. To the old creeks and dirt roads and corner stores I remember like the back of my hand. My family's spread about so we always have somewhere to stay and someone to visit, just feels easy and right when we cross those state lines for holidays or for a getaway. Chlo loves it too, she's a Country Girl through and through. It'll take some time to convince her to move, but I hope eventually it's a plan we can both share.

what are you like when you're out of the spotlight?

Same as I am in it, plain and simple. Competitive, persistent, adventurous, never settling for less. Optimistic, dedicated, outgoing, simple, always looking for fun. I don't act any way I'm not. Escaping from pressers sure is nice, same with paparazzi and the hovering attention that can leave you on edge or spark drama in your affairs. I'm not one for the glitz and glam, but it's something I have to deal with anyhow. It's all about finding a balance, not letting the rumors or personas own you.

how do you think your team would describe working with you?

They'd say I'm patient, focused and always grateful. I'm open to suggestions, I strive for fairness both on and off the track. I try to be approachable to fans and friendly to cameras, even if I'm dripping buckets exhausted and can't wait to get a presser over with. I don't blame anyone but myself for mishaps or losses, because the best rider has won the races I have not. I consider my (second) opportunity with KTM a huge blessing that I don't plan on wasting, I have to keep up with a lot of elite guys, and even more younger ones looking to lap me. I'm an all around honest, straightforward type of guy.

were there any deciding moments in your career?

Again with my accident, my decision to recover was my most impacting. At the time I was ready to give up, overwhelmed by pain and painkillers, the worry of my family and the warnings from doctors. Every week that I was out was another race I couldn't participate in, the further I fell behind a class of riders that doesn't wait for anybody. The more faith I lost, the less drive I had. I was defeated, convinced that I was done. It felt like the choice I had was between life or motocross. For me, motocross was all I knew; it was life. I dwelled but eventually, with the help of fans, friends and family, moved from a wheelchair to a walker to a set of crutches, and finally where I belonged. Back on the bike. From there, my career moved forward. The accident put things into perspective for me, gave me a new lease on life and I'm as thankful for it as I was fearful.

any inside details on your latest project?

Acting's never been my gig but somehow there are a few commercials lined up with my name in the credits. I've been asked to be pull some stunts for the likes of GoPro, Dodge and Red Bull. Big honor, a lot of their stuff is inspiring and benefits sports all across the spectrum. Plus it's a hell of a time. Aside from that, keeping up with charities and fund raisers between my sport and Chloe's music industry. I help Chloe jot down lyrics every now and then, or play my guitar to get her muse going. But the biggest project of all's gotta be our wedding, counting down these next couple weeks til April. A lot of consultations, reservations, bookings, tastings, fittings...to be honest it's impossible to keep track of the task list, my biggest responsibility is keeping Chloe sane in the meantime.

father: Joseph Harland Mccraith, 57
mother: Clara Elizabeth Mccraith (nee Carpenter), 57
siblings: Savannah Hudson, 34
Brooke Jennings, 31
Whitley Collier, 28.
other: Jackson, 11; Cheyenne, 6
Cody, 7; Wyatt, 4; Holly, newborn
Cassidy, 3.

Grant Hudson, brother-in-law
Colton Jennings, brother-in-law
George Collier, brother-in-law

The Polshuks are my future in-laws

Tucker, mutt
Chip, mutt
Beatrix, Bengal cat

There was a boy with big dreams, in a small town that couldn't contain em.

I was born and raised in Amarillo, the area where my parents chose to settle upon graduating from Texas A&M and getting married. Once they started a family, they welcomed three daughters before having me - Savannah Jean, Brooke Taylor, and Whitley Ann. My dad, Joseph Harland, is from Dallas. My mama, Clara Elizabeth, is from Roswell, Georgia. They met their freshman year at college in the library when Joe tapped his future wife on the shoulder to ask where he might find the automotive book section. He adopted a love for machines early on, watching his own father perform heavy labor for as long as he could remember. He studied engineering and mechanics in school, while my mama avidly pursued writing. She had a dream of authoring children's books. When we were young we'd fall asleep to the lull of her voice reading those stories to us that a friend helped her put together and illustrate. She ended up homemaking and teaching Sunday school at our local church instead, but that never stopped her from penning down our memories on to the pages with the same spark.

As for my older sisters, they were as much fun to live as they were loud, bossy, hormonal headaches. We each held different relationships with one another as the years went on and we matured, understanding our ranks and dynamics. Savannah was the first born and a natural leader because of it. She took charge of us younger pups with an iron fist, a perfectionist with the need for control. Brooke, on the other hand, was the free spirit. She was silly and light-hearted, rather collecting friends than making enemies. Her care shone genuinely in every single thing she did. And then there was Whitley, the live wire. She was never sure of her fit, cycling through all the phases you can imagine. Most were rebellious, landing her in a lot of conflict. She's a quiet girl at first but the more you get to know her the more she opens up, and you can trust she'll let everyone know when somethin's on her mind.

We grew up in the same house our whole life, an older style two-story with four bedrooms, a wraparound porch, big yellow shutters and a window box in the kitchen. We were closer to the southern outskirts of town than to the guts of the city, situated on an expanse of land that was said to once have been used as a weapons base, then converted for ranching. We owned an acre of a backyard with fences in constant need of repair, flattening out to wide open fields and a hidden creek not too far off where cattle and creatures would wander. I spent as much time out there as I could, making up new games to play or helping my dad with his inventions til sundown. During dad's time off he'd build us play houses, or add on to my sisters' princess castles where they kept their diaries and dolls. I liked to chase after them on my bike, trying to smear mud or biscuit batter on them, get them in a fuss hollerin all through the house. I'd fool around with anything I could get my hands on, usually earning me a few minutes in the timeout corner. We were real close with the neighbor kids too, spending the summers together in above-ground swimming pools, throwing barbecue parties, going camping at Lake Meredith, courting the pretty girls. We grew up with cats and dogs and birds and fish and animals we'd find out back, nurse back to health, then try to convince mama to let us keep. We also grew up near some relatives, namely my uncles and cousins. They were a wild bunch―Hell, still are to this day―who contributed to some of my most memorable adventures growing up... Not to mention a whole mess of trouble.

Young as I was, that's when I got into motocross. That's where my life seemed to begin.

Even before that, mama said I was always on the move. I crawled early and walked earlier, taking to a trike by my third Christmas and dismantling the training wheels before New Year's Day. I jumped off the curb, built ramps that mama dreaded to no end, practiced through obstacle courses made out of fruit crates and flat tires, braving the scratches in stride with the fun of racing with my buddies or just passing the time. I skated and played sports, anything that kept me going. But I was four years old when I was finally allowed to get on the seat of a dirt bike. I remember watching my cousins fly through the air on them, doing figure eights, spraying dirt everywhere. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen, studying every move they made with their hands, how they controlled their bodies, what they did with their feet. Naturally I fell, and fell, and then I fell some more until I was bruised and limping, but I was ready for more, grinning black and blue under my helmet. Course mama took some talking to, something my slick-talking Uncle John helped with. By the time I was seven it was an honest to God pursuit of mine, longer than any other had managed to stick. All allowance I saved up bailing hay on my Uncle Don's farm was spent on parts; posters of Jeremy McGrath, Carey Hart, Evel Knievel and Steve McQueen plastered over my walls; racing movies stacking my shelves and events on the family television. I read my dad's maintenance manuals while mama memorized the issued rulebooks, hauling around competition to competition with my cousins and their RV. I ended up home schooled most of my life because of a schedule dominated by traveling and race weekends. I missed out on some of the more typical things a kid might go through, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I loved hangin down at the diner with the high school crowd, my first drive being in a tractor, morning fishing at Ida Lake, taking my dad's old Chevy out late at night for joyrides down to the creek with a pretty girl in the front seat. I made time for my family and friends, my free time always savored at home, specially for the holidays. It's how I grew up, the only way I know.

I racked up several dozen amateur national titles before debuting as pro at 18 in the 2005 AMA Supercross Lites West Series at Angel Stadium, where I finished second. It was my most exhilarating stage yet, I couldn't get enough. I won my first race later on the season―at Texas Stadium, proudly enough―ending the season third overall. I headed to the Motocross Lites afterward with a spot more experience under my belt, shaking off the nerves. With eight podium finishes and six first-place wins, I was dubbed "unstoppable" during my rookie season, becoming the AMA Motocross Lites Champion. It was an incredibly blessed accomplishment, never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd win straight out of the gate, still wide-eyed and wet behind the ears. I can't describe the feeling of hoisting that trophy over my head... Guess it helped to carry the momentum though, seeing as news of my success continued into the post-season where I was selected as a member of Team USA at the Motocross des Nations in France. My first time abroad. We claimed first place, an honor to even be near mentioned among such riders in history. I also named the AMA Supercross/Motocross Rookie of the Year. In 2006 I started off strong again, winning seven of eight races then again going on to win the AMA Motocross Lites Championship. To cap off a perfect season, I became the first rider in history to win the overalls in both motos on a KTM250F against larger 450cc motorcycles at the Motocross des Nations in England. But what I reckon meant most to me that year, was meeting Kaye Haldwell. Brown doe eyes, heart-shaped shaped lips, an accent out of the thick of North Carolina...I was in love at first sight on a hot August day. She was the good old-fashioned Southern girl I'd been encouraged to look for, and she was in my life the moment I asked her to be mine.

While I still called Amarillo home, for convenience sake I kept an apartment in Los Angeles that my agent tracked down for me. As luck had it, Kaye lived over in Sherman, majoring in art history at Austin College. Some of her favorite things were sunflowers, antiques, homemade popsicles and romance novels. She always left the radio on for Tucker when he was alone. She hated rabbits in the garden, and the smell of wood polish. I spent as much time in Texas with her as I could get, managing the trips to see her even when I was running on little energy or no sleep. We spent the first few months getting to know each other slowly, first over day trips and picnics, to dinners and movies. She was a shy little thing, two years younger than me but not naive in any sense. We bonded over our big families and our love for their traditions, our interests, our likes, our hopes and future ideals. I was smitten from the get-go, hanging on to every next detail, each new feeling. I'd been with other girls before, dating since I was about sixteen or seventeen, but with Kaye there was promise for something more, something real. We were young, it was innocent, we couldn't help but chase it down and brand it love. Yes she was always wary of motocross, especially when I'd venture into the freestyle scene. It mighta been a part of my life that she didn't understand, but she did her best to support me however she could. Six months into our relationship, helping her pin up laundry outside on the lines and getting tangled up in the sheets, laughing, trying to find our way out, we landed in a heap on the grass and I told her I loved her. Six months later, I asked her to move in with me. We made love for the first time, going on to meet each others' folks and talk marriage.

Speaking of marriage, over the years my sisters have found their beaus, tied the knot and started their own families. First was Savannah when she was 22, marrying a banker by the name of Grant Hudson while she herself worked in real estate. They moved to Galveston after college, and have since had two children. Jackson, 11, and Cheyenne, 6. At 21 Brookie married a construction worker named Colton Jennings who she'd met through friends, and works as a court stenographer. They have three children in Houston - Cody, 7, Wyatt, 4, and Holly who's just a few weeks old. Lastly, Whit married a Marine corporal, George Collier, she'd been on and off with for little over a year before they had baby Cassidy, 3. I have a hunch she's expecting another.

Back to my career track... In 2007, I earned my third consecutive 250CC Championship by winning eight events and finishing on the podium in eleven of twelve starts. I finished second in the AMA Supercross Lites East Series with three wins and four podiums in seven starts. I claimed the MX2 championship at the Motocross des Nations in Maryland, helping Team USA earn the team title for the third consecutive year. My first year in the AMA Supercross Series in 2008 I signed with Red Bull/KTM Factory Team, racing a KTM 450XC-F. My first win in the 450 class took place in San Francisco, after which I received the loudest string of phone calls from my relatives in congratulations. I was in the big leagues now, up there with some of the guys I'd been watching for the past few years...and some I had been racing next to all along. I was in magazines, at press events, cameras in my face and pens in my hands for autographs. It was a whirlwind, one I thought I had grown accustomed to since I first started professionally. But there's always a stretch of road untraveled, like my dad says. After San Francisco I tallied four more wins and four more podium finishes in nine starts. My last one was in Irving, on April 5, 2008, which I won and celebrated at my sister Whit's home in nearby Fort Worth. There were four more races to go, already on pace to ride off with my first 450 Championship.

Like I'd first won in Texas years ago...I won in Texas, and crashed later.

My season ended. I was bumped down to third place with 257 points.

There was no way I'd make it to Moto after.

What happened was a blur. Mentally a blur because of what my brain and body and nerves had gone through, but not one that I'll forget out of the bits and pieces I do have left. It's always felt like lost footage, trying to put back broken shards into something that looks like a picture. I was in Lubbock, the day after Irving. My cousins and I stopped over at one of their favorite tracks where we got to practicing, testing out bike tweaks and fooling around. A couple of friends from the area joined up with us, just a regular afternoon hangin out the back of trailers and shootin the breeze. The guys got to racing, then pulling stunts and daring each other. I was no stranger to tricks, freestyle was one of many interests on the side. Hell it was on two wheels, course I'd love it. You start to get creative with whips or when you're landing a triple, and I was starting to get to know fellow riders who were famous for their antics, like Blake Williams, Travis Pastrana, and Nate Adams. From outside people right off the bat think it's dangerous and reckless, but it's really all about control, and flow, and patience and skill and grace. Not to mention, tremendous lack of fear. The acceptance that anything can happen. Whether I had truly, consciously accepted that, I can't really tell... but there were no second thoughts to it that day, when I failed a backflip cordova. I remember a blip. Hearing the throttle choke then the ground got closer - and it cuts to black. I woke up in the hospital, barely able to catch my breath through bruised ribs, a broken collarbone and fractured sternum, a fractured arm and crushed vertebrae. I remember thinkin my doctor was speakin another language, telling me all that was wrong with me. Injuries weren't unfamiliar to me, they're an occupational hazard, but nothing that had sidelined me for longer than a few weeks before now. This wasn't good news, I could tell it the moment he stepped in the room.

Every blown knee, torn ACL, broken wrist... They all paled in comparison. I was propped up in a hospital bed, pissin in a bag and eatin food of the same consistency. Kaye was a wreck, she couldn't so much as glance me in the face for days if I begged. I can't remember her first words to me because I couldn't hear them through her sobs. She was convinced I was dead. I required surgery, and physical therapy, and this and that I heard ordered from nurses and specialists and relatives but no one was saying the word I wanted to hear... No one was telling me when I would ride again, like they didn't wanna jinx it. Like it wouldn't happen. When black clouds hang over you long enough they start to pour, and I drowned in their rain, trudged through the mud and got sucked under. I let go for a while, confined in casts and machines. Sedated, sat in front of a food tray and TV. Gifts piled up with 'get well soon' wishes, my family came and went, but nothin helped. Not even Kaye, who looked after me like a hawk. Days were slow and painful, til three months passed and I couldn't tell the difference. I didn't feel progress but I didn't want progress, I'd been washed out. It was summer and I was missing racing, avoiding the stories about my absence....or worse, the lack of stories if they had already lapped me. I was moved back to Amarillo where my parents could take real proper care of me. It did some good to be back, staring through the window at the prairies I used to ride. The swing I used to push my sisters on. The laughter rang through the house, through my bedroom, reminding me of my childhood and a happy home that wasn't sterile and suffocating like an ICU wing. I wanted to open that window, to make the memories louder and the feelings stronger. Little by little I willed myself better, cheered up by my nieces and nephews who'd come keep me company during their summer vacation, conjuring up up low intensity games for us to play, or bringing over new coloring books, watching some of their favorite cartoon shows. Riders and my sponsors reached out to me, extending their support. I even opened letters from fans offering prayers and positive thoughts, one of which I keep framed to this day that I read whenever I think of giving up or if an obstacle proves too great. Kaye was warming up too, happy that I was fighting through my blues. I flushed my last bottle of painkillers and dusted off a guitar, committed to recovery. Life first, then came everything else.

Around the holidays I'd traded in the wheelchair (also got caught one too many time trying to pop a wheelie) for a walker, then eventually two crutches to just one. I was taking my health in stride, focused on feeling 100% before I talked about returning to racing...although I sure as hell couldn't keep it off my mind, waiting for the tension in my arms and soreness in my chest to free up. Rehabbing was a bitch of a process, yet the most enlightening of my career. It opened my eyes to actions and consequences, reactions and challenges, will power and my inner drive. In stepping away from motocross, I renewed my passion for it. To this day I'm still processing the events of my crash and how it's all fatefully come together. However, I've never watched the footage.

I don't know if it was a ripple effect or just bound to happen, but Kaye and I split in June 2009. I returned to our home in Topanga to find her moved out, where she said goodbye to me. She moved back to North Carolina, with the five-year plan I no longer fit into that she had idolized since she was a child. Seems like my injuries, and most of all my persistence on riding again, got the better of us. I was heartbroken over losing the girl I loved, another drastic change I had to recuperate from. Not yet ready to compete I took it easy as easy comes to someone like me, adjusting to the cards I was dealt with, never sure on the state of my luck. I'd gotten into talks with some of my team staff again, making appearances around the garage to pass time, meeting rookies or reviewing bike concepts. I played guitar in a band of friends who drifted dive to dive and made a couple hundred bucks on good nights, even trying my hand at bar tending at a place called Seven Grand. I was set to get back into the dating scene, discovering just how different girls in LA are from girls in Texas. Course I'd had girlfriends before and gone through spells of dating and hooking up as a young man, but for the past three years Kaye was my everything. I didn't know how to be single again, if I could get those feelings back. I did my best to adapt as I saw fit, making it through another summer, again posed with the question of returning to riding. I'd started practicing  but my injuries flared up, forcing me to slow down. I got involved with some side projects to keep me busy, from video games to walking onto TV shows like Fantasy Factory and Nitro Circus. I was hovering between worlds.

Then I met someone who would become my future world. Chloe.

Earlier in the year, at a Dodgers game. I remember Kaye on my arm and her on Mitch's. "Freckles," I said, the first thing I noticed about her. We sat up in the nosebleeds with beer and loaded hot dogs, having a grand time watching the home team kill it 13-5. We'd all run into each other again most weekends, usually at the bar more than anywhere else. I knew Mitch through his mechanic, we were in the waiting room one day and got to talking about cars when we became friends. He rarely talked about Chloe, but when he did he was usually good and drunk first, complaining about being in the doghouse. Some nights she ended up coming in with different groups or her girlfriends on a night out, asking if Kaye ever wanted to join. I'd comp their drinks, make sure they had a good time and got home safely through the downtown static. I didn't do it for the tips. Other nights Mitch would ghost through, stir up an argument with her and scream at her outside in the parking lot, or they'd make up five minutes later in the pool room. I didn't understand the goings-on but it wasn't my place to butt in. The more often she came, the more alone she turned up. I called her a regular, she loved Arnold Palmers on the nights she wasn't heavy drinking Jager bombs and whiskey sours, sauntering on stage to sing karaoke or tuck herself in the corner til I came and kept her company after last call. We'd talk and talk for hours, play a game of darts or order in from the downstairs restaurant last minute. Many nights I called her a cab, other times I drove her home myself and helped her stumble into bed while I crashed on the living room couch. The less Mitch surfaced in our conversations the more I learned about her, giving her a real personality, a real side to the story that I only had ever heard from him. I should've called her Trouble, cause soon she was more on my mind than she should've been...

I enjoyed our inside jokes, and the time we spent together after hours. I was snagged by the look she'd shoot me across the bar when she walked in, and how she tried my accent on for size just when she got a little too tipsy. She'd steal my hat too, challenge me to a round of pool using drinks as wagers, dragging each other out for a quick smoke break and forget talking about anything but the stars. Later on I'd find her lying across the bar or the felt top, watching me put up the stools and chairs through the bottom of a glass of water. I knew I was in trouble when I started hoping for something else in her eyes, or that I was even close enough to search. My nerves got the better of me when we wound up alone together, her smiles tempting and laughs contagious. My good senses were going haywire, attracted to my friend's girl, a girl I couldn't believe he'd ever let loose in the first place.

The full moon does crazy things. It was the excuse we used, late night texting each other in September. We'd been adding to what we began to call our adventures, from romps on the Santa Monica pier to a day trip bungee jumping in Azusa. I'm not too sure what was harder - talking her into the idea beforehand, or jumping off the Bridge to Nowhere when we were actually strapped in. But she trusted me and we took the plunge, nails indenting my arms so hard they're still there, eyes that wouldn't open til I convinced her we were in one piece. I had half a mind to kiss her. If she had asked me the truth I'd have admitted it. We were always honest and open, an easiness with someone I hadn't felt with for a while. Plenty had been happening the past two years that I didn't want to be reminded of, but with Chloe we were both on similar battlefields when it came to heartbreak and our careers. It was effortless, confiding in each other. Reveling in the subtle flirtations, the simple tokens of affections like Delilah the bear or trading homecooked meals. But it was Labor Day weekend when we chased the feelings further, first colliding on a house boat before she invited me to her parents' house, setting me up with her friend while she attended with Mitch. I kissed her under the docks, forgetting all about Avery and Mitch. From then on we held to football Sundays and bar dates, exploring a curious attraction that we knew was wrong, corrupt even, but couldn't be denied. It was fast after losing Kaye and Mitch was my friend, but I started to fall for Chloe, fed up with him jerking her around. I spilled the last secret I had from her - that even during their on-and-off gray areas, Mitch had been seeing another girl behind her back. My moral compass spun every which way that night, but I knew I'd done the right thing. Even if she never wanted anything to do with me, even after taking a punch for her, she had to know.

We ourselves fell into a hazy place. I wanted something more, eventually, and she didn't believe she was capable of it. Meanwhile her career was brewing, set to launch on a three month tour for her 'Sentiments' album from September to November across thirty cities in the States. We counted down, worried about the place we were leaving off at and what would happen when she came back. We slept together at her farewell party, avoiding the final 'goodbye' word on everyone's tongues all night that I didn't want to say because I promised I'd see her again. She was gone for about two weeks before I joined her on an impulse, figuring I had the free time on my hands after watching the Motocross des Nations in Belgium to explore where we could be going. We collected the pictures and souvenirs, calling family and friends on a nightly basis, reminding me of all my long road trips - experience that I offered as comfort to her when she got homesick or doubted herself. I was on board almost every one of those shows, sharing a ritual shot backstage besides a few in the Carolinas I stepped away from. In Vegas one of her shows coincided with the Monster Energy Cup, which I surprised her by riding in and placing third overall in the main events. Amidst more serious talking we decided to give us a chance, marked down on November 17th and later told to the public at the American Music Awards where I was her date. Different AMA than I'm used to, haha. I spent Thanksgiving with her folks in LA, then she visited Amarillo for Christmas with mine. The development of our relationship and the general fire that is Chloe Polshuk inspired me to stop lagging, and  start my comeback.

At the turn of 2010, I was ready. I came, I saw, but I had yet to conquer. I returned with KTM, gifting me a second opportunity that I called redemption instead. I felt confident in my health and abilities, eager to get back on the track. I battled consistently with Ryan Villopoto throughout the season, trying to beat my own shadow more than I was trying to beat him or any other rider out there. I didn't want to feel like I was ghosting through the same rounds as years prior, deja-vu before I inevitably got to Texas and snapped at the memory of my accident. I dodged a few injuries, careful of aggravating my already underlying ones. Chloe was a huge support, even while burning the midnight oil working on her next hit songs and blueprinting her future album. In the AMA Supercross Series I finished third overall, leaving me, ironically, where I had been after my crash. I had to have a sense of humor about it, noticing the repetition, smiling about my story and its contiuation to the interviews for their articles about how I was doomed to be injury prone for the rest of a probably short career. Lucky I'm more optimistic than that. Heading into the outdoors in 2010, I buckled down. My head was in the game, focused on my first-time run through the AMA Motocross Series on a 450. Chloe was swamped by the release of her 'Truth and Cost' album, tugged every which way by her management and fans, garnering the interest of the industry as a hit sensation. We made time for ourselves beteen my race weekends and her promotional obligations, surprising each other when we could. I turned up at her concerts and she'd pop up in the pit before a qualifier, that early bliss of being together still very much alive. If I'm being honest, I'd already fallen in love with her.

On September 11 in Pala, California, I won the 2010 AMA Motocross Championship. I won ten of twelve races with podium finishes in the rest, setting a rookie record that beat Ricky Carmichael's previous nine. I finally got the red plate that had been robbed from me. My family made a point to fly out to watch alongside Chloe, shaking bottles of champagne in toast before we took off back to Los Angeles to spend the rest of the night together. We earned the next couple weeks together before she went off on her second tour, only this time it was twice as long and I couldn't tag along for the long haul. I made any dates I could, giving a nod to our first anniversary and embracing the following holidays. When 2011 came around I hit the Supercross Series with all my might, regularly finishing toward the top of my class in a five-way battle with some other great riders. On May 7, I won the 2011 AMA Supercross Championship by a margin of 4 points over Chad Reed (338–334) who I respect immensely. I was invited to the Summer X Games XVII from July 28–31, where I received a bronze in Freestyle, and silver in Best Trick for the backflip cordova that almost killed me years ago. A few weeks before that, Chloe and I stopped in Lubbock heading home from our big Fourth of July with my family. I can't explain how it felt to be walking on that track. I was hyper aware of every sensation, yet somehow felt out of my body, looking down. Or maybe that was the old Jesse watching over me, or maybe a guardian angel. I don't know what possessed me, but I gunned it off the double, and I was over the handlebars looking down at the Earth. And then I landed. I shouted so loud in my helmet I thought I'd gone deaf, making it back round to Chloe to throw down my bike, pull her up in my arms and tell her I was in love with her. I was redeemed. Lubbock and I were even.

In 2012 I was blessed with another AMA Supercross Championship. But while I raced and while Chloe racked up awards, we both knew what was coming faster than we could grasp. Her 'Diary of Lazy Love' tour, this time for a stretch of nine months. At one point when she was extra frustrated after a long studio day, she pointed out that half of our relationship was with her being on the road. She had just moved in with me in Topanga, and already the next year was accounted for. Our careers are tough pills to swallow when they're in full swing, but they're what we love, and we're what we love too. The morning of April 11 she was scheduled to leave after a week of bidding goodbye to friends and family, scared stiff by the length of the set list. It was bittersweet, promising to talk everyday over the phone or computer, and send pictures and visit whenever possible. The middle ground between together and too distant. I tell you what, I'd missed her enough after two tours, I didn't wanna let her go on this third one without a change. At 5AM we sat up for a few minutes, watching the sunrise before she stepped on that tour bus. I stood there for who knows how long til the bus disappeared on the horizon. I ran back inside for my helmet, rifling through my sock drawer for a little felt box, then peeled out of the garage to chase after her. In a minute I had caught up, crossing into the oncoming lane and pulling ahead, slowing to a stop in front of a bus that was liable to run me down. Helmet off and tucked under my elbow, the driver motioned for me to move but I wouldn't budge til I saw Chloe in the cabin. She rolled down the window, and I don't know what she was going to say but before she did I told her: "You can't go, Chloe Polshuk." She shook her head, she couldn't do this, she had to go. I could tell she wanted to cry, that this was already making it harder - and she wasn't even gone yet. "How bout you go Chloe McCraith instead?" It didn't even take her a second to look up before I was at the door, up step by step til I was in front of her, dropping to one knee and offering a ring. I proposed and she sprang into my arms, nearly knocking us both out of the bus, kissing and laughing and crying feverishly. The ring slipped right where it belonged, and I could breathe. We sat on the stairs for a few minutes, not a lick of traffic in sight across the barren hills. Blue skies, no clouds, her fingers in mine, my heartbeat winning a race of its own. The driver reminded us of the time and we finally untangled, lost in heavy kisses and murmurs once more before she waved goodbye and the horn sounded in finality. I picked up my bike and tailed her for a second til she pulled the window back, laughing at my attempt at becoming a stowaway. I flipped up my visor and sidled next to the bus, touching her hand and telling her I loved her one last time while she embarked. She echoed it, before I let go and wheelied off, feeling on top of the world.

I'd held on to the ring for a while, I'd had it since even before Kaye. Mama gave it to me, told me where its roots traced in our family trees. Course with Kaye I thought that I would someday give it to her, after we lived out her five year plan. Chloe found it one night months before we got engaged, while she was digging through the attic and found a box I must've forgotten to toss. I knew how Chloe felt about marriage, it took time for her to talk anything serious and more often than not we butted heads over different opinions. She'd had a tussle enough just dating me in the first place. But when I told her that I'd never given that ring to Kaye and it was for the woman I was gonna marry, I can't lie that I didn't like the way it looked on her finger. The topic was sensitive, one I approached carefully and she avoided, at one point sparking a fight where I took the offer off the table for the stress it was causing her in our lack of readiness. Guess after that it was on our minds more than ever, cause she asked me to ask her to marry her already at the Grammy's.

While she was away I went on to win a World Supercross Championship, also performing a few times in the Nuclear Cowboyz North American tour, at Nitro Circus live shows, for Red Bull X-Fighters, in the X Games XVIII (taking home Gold in Moto X Speed & Style, bronze in Step Up) and the Monster Energy Cup (winning the Monster Million). Chloe and I kept communication, wading through wedding desires once we announced April 11, 2013, a year after our engagement, as our official big date. I'm as ecstatic as family, friends and fans are, who have all been incredibly supportive and kind. It wasn't always a smooth ride, it's hard going for weeks without seeing the person you love. She's my best friend, my love, my inspiration, the future mother of my children, my impatient and stubborn Pop Star Princess turned Country Girl. She's the best thing to happen to me after my crash.

Earlier this year in January, she returned from her tour. I picked her up at the airport with a sign reading "Mrs. McCraith," and we've been settling back in ever since. I'm currently defending my Championship, poised first in the AMA Motocross Series halfway through the season. Chloe's taking the year off and we're making every moment count; the question we used to ask―do we have time?―won't need to be asked anymore once she walks down the aisle toward me.

alias: Susan
age: 20
play-by: Kacey Carrig
spotlight group: Top of the game
city: LA
currently playing: The Only Way I Know - Jason Aldean