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CHRISTIAN CRAIG
450 SX / 4TH
IMAGE / KILPATRICK WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> We are now in the rst few weeks of March. And when many think of this time of year, they imagine owers growing day by day, birds chirping, and lawn mower’s cutting grass from dawn until dusk. And that’s rightfully so; however, for many in the southern Florida region, they equip for “Spring Breakers.” Weeks lled with partying and vacation-going students, looking to unwind in the Daytona area, soaking up ray’s of sunshine throughout their week of relaxation. But when the general public zooms in on the crowds of Supercross, they realize this particular destination isn’t one of all fun and games. These professionals are here for business, and look to walk away from Daytona, Florida with gold around their neck, and hefty checks in their bank account. Christian Craig had his eyes on the prize as he walked into these famous stomping grounds, examining the statues of greats with one hundred percent focus. He wanted to replicate those performances on this particular evening, and
it would all start with a substantial qualifying time. And you could go ahead and check that off of the agenda, as he would ring the machine for all it had throughout these short duration of laps, putting each particular round together in sprinting fashion. He would assess his times at the conclusion, underneath the awning of his team truck. They then created a plan for execution, once racing would begin. He would storm off the gate for his heat race, the rear wheel shooting sand tens of feet behind as he connected to mother earth. Funneling through the pack on the rst lap, he would joust with Cooper Webb, looking to fend him off with nothing but elbows. Nearing the tuff-blocks in a few of the bowl turns, he was searching for a relic of smooth lines. His fortune would play into good luck, as both Tomac, and Webb who were in front, would suffer huge mistakes, and push him to the lead. He would continue to nd those smooth lines just after the dragons back on the far side, leaping over the single, and then sling-shotting down the nish line straight away. It was all he could do to get away from Dean Wilson, who would trail him at the nish; but he would do so, tallying up a spectacular rst place ride. The main event had a sea of chaos when erupting from the line, twenty-two of the world’s fastest racers vying for the inside. Luckily, he would remain relatively unscathed in the early going, as his holeshot would propel him out front; yet have all types of mental warfare from Marvin Musquin, who was just behind. Everywhere he went, the opposition would trail; it was taxing of both the mind and body. The track, now truly deteriorating piece by piece, was like that of a crime scene; where every particular portion had to be glued together in unison, in order to solve the puzzle of a solid n- ish. His eyes were acting as magnifying glasses, each corner examined thoroughly before his tread would etch into the berm. As the timer would begin to wind down, his forearms would grip the handle- bars for all they had. This outlier of a layout in the Supercross equation was truly weighing on the eld; but he was doing enough to rally through. Pushing forward, the heat from Cooper Webb and Eli was there. His fatigue would allow only those two to get around, and the fourth place ride seemed to be his. The nal buzzer would sound, and he would come across the line fourth, ready to cool down.
16 GRITMOTO • MARCH 11, 2018