It’s wild to trace the beginnings of a racing career back to a bowl of M&M’s and a TV screen.
The true starting line for Yana Kapoor was the family sofa. As a seven-year-old, she and her older brother, Yashom, would sit cross-legged, watching NASCAR. Initially, her fandom mirrored her brother’s—she was a Kyle Busch fan simply because her older brother was “older and cooler.”
But then, Yana wanted her own thing. Everything changed when she discovered Danica Patrick, the only woman in the field. Suddenly, watching NASCAR wasn’t enough, and amusement park go-karts were completely inadequate. The solution? They did what every curious kid does: they Googled “real racing near me.”
That search led them to the “magical place” known as Michiana Raceway Park (MRP).
The Moment of Confirmation
The first time they pulled into the track, the atmosphere hit her immediately: the smell of fuel, the roar of the engines, and the butterflies in her stomach. Then, the track owner, Andy, casually delivered the bomb: “You know, Danica used to race here too.”
Kapoor’s jaw dropped. Her idol, on this very track? That was the confirmation. She was in.
She and Yashom got matching helmets—his with blue flames, hers with pink—and jumped into their first races in LO206 karts. They were utterly clueless; Yana recalls once hitting the brakes instead of the gas and spinning straight into the grass. But they were committed. They figured it out, race by race. That track quickly transformed into their playground, their battlefield, and their launchpad.
Somewhere between those M&M-filled Sundays and the start line at MRP, a racer was born.
The Unforgettable Rookie Season
Kapoor’s first full season of karting at Michiana Raceway Park was chaotic, hilarious, humbling, and completely unforgettable. She was learning everything from scratch: how to take a corner without spinning, how not to confuse the gas and brake (which, yes, happened more than once), and how to push past nerves to just “send it.”
Confidence didn’t appear overnight, but every lap brought a tiny breakthrough, a small win, a moment of “okay, I’ve got this.”
And through it all, her brother, Yashom, was right there. They raced in the LO206 class, side by side, wearing their slightly mismatched motorcycle helmets—which, in their minds, made them pros.
What made that rookie year special was their dynamic. They never viewed each other as competition; they were teammates. They hyped each other up after strong races and had each other’s backs when things went wrong—which, early on, was often. They learned together, failed together, and got better together. They’d review video footage, brainstorm improvements, and constantly trade tips, building not just racecraft but a deep trust.
By the end of that inaugural season, Yashom won the championship. Yana came in second.
Instead of feeling overshadowed, she felt immense pride—in him, in herself, and in what they had accomplished together. That bond forged on the track became the bedrock for everything that followed—in racing, academics, and life. It sparked projects they still collaborate on and a shared ambition that continues to push them both forward.