Page 30 - Issue-48

ZACH OSBORNE
250 MX / 1ST
IMAGE / CAVAZOS WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / WILSON
>> 5:30 a.m., the sun beginning to rare its head; eyes have awoken, staring, gazing at the landscape around them. The pits are filled with numerous 18-wheelers, parked parallel and perpendicular to one another, a barricade of the most elite warriors surrounding you. These imaginary walls begin to grow higher as thoughts are dug deeper into the mind of your own. Do you choose to be toppled? Slowly scale the wall with precision? Or extirpate every piece of brick, to the point of what once stood tall, now just a mound miniscule fragments? To become champion, one must choose the latter. And be decisive when doing so. What better time than the present? This is the first pawn in a series of dominoes, this round translating into an effect that can deter or propel an entire season. It’s time to set the pace, and we must do it now. The first stage of practice begins; everyone is starting to feel things out. Rivals staring at rivals, the rookies peaking over their shoulder at their elder combatants, and Zach Osborne creating lines on the track with the most exquisite marksmanship. Carving from inside to outside, he’s adjusting to this much better than in the confinement of stadium flooring. The breaking bumps are slowly growing lap by lap, and he’s choosing to shift up, and drag the rear brake, lessening the blow on the chassis. It’s as though, whatever his mind yearns for, the bike and body follow suit; he prevails, as everyone is chasing after that illustrious 2:10 mark. He’s now on the line for the first moto,
the new beginning is here. If 2017 wants the storybook ending; the ink shall be dripping for the first page of introduction. The gate falls, the 40-man gate feels a little unusual compared to the series just completed, but nonetheless they fight through. He rounds the first lap in second, chasing Adam Cianciarulo. Weaving tire- lessly throughout the track, his speed coming into the ravine section was phenomenal, hugging the right, and swooping to the left, clicking into third gear with a quick stab of the clutch as he hopped out. After hounding AC for numerous laps, he secured the spot, and moved well on his way. Looking to keep the strong pace go- ing as his mechanic was waving that signature white towel, he was getting a boost of encouragement on the straightaway just prior to the finish line. It would act as a boost of serotonin, pushing him all the way to a win for moto number one. Refreshing with plenty of electrolyte in between the set of events, he and his mechanic began to roll back towards the gate, following the intermission ceremonies. It’s time for the heart rate to spike, and climb the summit once again. The second moto begins, the pack once again roaring with what seemed
to be more intensity than the first moto. He’s wanting it again. He’s looking strong, skying over the tabletop- esque jump following the start bend, his rear end dancing upon landing, but he’s pulling through and through. The pace he’s running is rather impressive, enough to leave those behind him at bay, but still being consistent to keep the gap that’s needed. As the minutes are dwindling, the fans roars continue to get louder; they are anxious, and he knows it, the closer he gets to the checkered flag, the more the anxiety and thought of tackling his greatest of goals looms near. Wheel tapping the small mogul prior to the absolutely gigantic monster of a triple on the backside of the track, he scrubs the “Godzilla” of a dirt mound with utter aggressiveness, a flick to the right, trying his best to remain on the ground. He was hanging on from what was needed, leaving Austin Forkner at bay in second. When he crossed the line, the chills of adrenaline engulfed his body, and family, team, and friends greeted him. He’d done it, and was leaving the first round with that hefty red plate.
30 GRITMOTO • MAY 21, 2017