Page 60 - Issue43

JUSTIN BRAYTON
450 SX / 10TH
IMAGE / LANGSTON WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / WILSON
>> Throughout many months of the year, the crack of wooden Louisville Sluggers can be heard echoing off of the architecture of the downtown St.Louis area. Some of the biggest hitters in the league reside here, hitting balls into all corners of Busch Stadium, where fans can watch with amazement as the 2 seemed white grenades fly through the air with tremendous speed. How- ever, for one particular weekend in early April, those baseballs are replaced with the high flying, impeccable sensation of Supercross, where now its not a small, lightweight object defying the odds of gravity, but rather a 220 pound steel bull and cowboy, ready to taper through the air like an F-16 fighter jet with a stream of flare. The pilot in this case? None other than Justin Brayton and his wide variety of spectacular skills. Coming into St.Louis, he knew the task that would
be ahead of him. A course that appeared to be highly technical (in terms of pure track design), but now another, outdoors element brought into play; ruts and broken down soil. Sections were beginning to comb out in qualifying, making him stand on the balls of his foot more, plantarflex- ing the ankle into those rigid pegs, and gripping the bike with his thighs with all of his might. He knew he would have to keep this effort up all night. Any lapse of focus could result in cata- strophic dirt sampling, with the visor broke, and dirt all within the breathing screen of his helmet. Throughout his qualifying efforts, he would fight hard, and although being stuck in the toughest of divisions, prevail, setting himself up solidly for the one and only, main event. The 450 field began to line the gate for the main event, and he had the most solemn facial expression, a cold, stone-hearted character if you will, ready to take his weapon, and dethrone anyone that stood in his way. The pack would stamper into the first turn after the collapsing of the gate, tearoffs rip- ping feverishly as the leaders were trying their best to leap onto the plateaus and gain momen- tum into the following left. His heart rate soaring, and his oxygen levels reaching the V02 max, he knew this would be a race of attrition; he had to focus, and get to calming down. The triples would be his place of his relaxation, as you could watch, albeit having to focus, his hands re- lease from the grip, and give a subtle shake as he was battling the rest of his factory-competitor counterparts. His laptimes were reaching into the ever so prestigious 52’s and 53’s but the lead- ers were elevating, and with pressure surrounding him from both the foreground and behind, he knew he would have to hightail it to the finish; and he did. Albeit sweat slowly beginning to drip from the ring of his vision, he would cross the final flag in tenth place. Satisfied, but knowing he could better himself under the right circumstances.
60 GRITMOTO • APRIL 2, 2017