Page 16 - GRIT-80

DYLAN FERRANDIS
250 MX / 4TH
IMAGE / LANG WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> Looking off into the horizon on this particular Saturday, Dylan Ferrandis had a few minutes alone, pondering both the past and present. He saw himself as an amateur pilot, vying for titles and race wins, constantly in media coverage. He pictured his future, what could be with revenue earned, and solid nishes accumulated, and then the present. What could he right now to attain it? What could these few, short hours that lay ahead provide in hopes for continued aspirations and dreams? Practice was a replica of previ- ous performances, as he dug tread into mother earth with the opening signal. Soaring through the depths of both up and downhill’s, the pace he was sustaining was remark- able. If he could only keep these laptimes up for the motos to come, he would be well
on his way to a solid nish. The forty-man eld would dive into turn number one, and
he would emerge with the green ag in fteenth place. Nearly spitting distance away from Joey Savatgy after a few laps, the revs of both bikes were almost that to blow an eardrum; yet he was still able to be so zoned in, and tapped into a zen-like mental state, that he could hear his own thoughts. Always looking to make the next move, he was the counter puncher in comparison to Shane McElrath, who was working as the south-pawed matador. Looking to sweep the position out from Shane’s grasp, he would do so, claim- ing eighth for his rst moto nish. The gate would crash for the second moto, and man
oh man would he let the beast beneath him rip. Skating around this track, literally on
the edge of his seat, he would hover near seventh. There was no time for complacency, as a moment of sitting in the same spot would result in a period of stagnation. Leaping outbound of the valley in the bottom, he took a brief look over his right shoulder, noticing the visor of Justin Cooper, stagnant, and re ecting in his rearview. As many gured, it wouldn’t rattle him, and he would continue to blitz forward, holding the throttle on as long as possible throughout the strenuous chop. The gas tank of his machine would begin to empty, along with the glycogen stores throughout his cells; yet he managed to cling to whatever energy he had. He felt the presence of a second place nish literally right in front of him. He knew that this was a battle of will, and lunge extremely hard for Austin Forkner in the nal few laps. And as the checkered ag would y, a subtle pump of praise would be lifted, although he couldn’t make the move; nishing third, the fourth overall position would be his for good.
16 GRITMOTO • JUNE 17, 2018