What is a place

What is a place.

There is a place called a motocross track. It can be any motocross track. It is a place where you can live out the desires on your heart. This is a place I like to live my life. This is the untold story of the passion that burns deep in my soul.  There is a deep passion that that yearns to be fed at this place. The motocross track is a holy place to me. To ride my dirt bike on this holy ground called a motocross track is what I long for. Peroration to ride out the passions of my heart start long before any race. It starts before the sunrise of every morning. Working harder then your competition in the gym to get that edge. Having a fined race bike can only go as fast as the rider. Even then you can’t afford to have a weak spot in your game. Having a good bike can make the difference of being able to clear the big jump or crashing into defeat. What I race against is the track not as much as the other riders. If I can manipulate the bike on the track the way I want then I am winning in my mind. Yes claiming first place is a feeling of much accomplishment but to be a master of the dirt is what makes you good.

Peroration, is the most important part of riding one of these motocross tracks. Peroration starts long before any race. The days leading up to a big race is everything. You must be one with your bike. Making sure your equipment is in working order. Being in shape to withstand the physical effort of riding fast. Yes preparation is my best friend. The body has to be just as fine tuned as the race bike. Eating healthy, working out, riding practice. Yes winning begins at the start of everyday. Many hours of dedication go into a very short lived victory. Doing the things you don’t want to do. Being willing and able to go the extra mile. The time spent lifting weights. The sore days of recovery. Running mile after mile. Feeling exhausted. Not willing to accept defeat. Working harder then your competition. Making the sacrifices to get the parts needed for your bike. There is no replacement for horse power. Getting the part that will add that ½ of horse power. Tuning your suspension to have the feel you need to corner quickly. Having a bike that is able to push the limits the way you want. Having a bike that is forgiving for when you make a mistake you don’t end up on the ground. Being one with your bike. Practice makes perfect. As much time as I spend in the gym and working on my bike. I spend less then half on the track pounding out lap after lap. To me, I love riding lap after lap, learning the dirt and the traction it has to give me. Picking up on the smallest of things to improve on. Which line or rut to take when the conditions change. The track is always changing. The dirt of the motocross track is always giving you something new. You could hit a jump 100 times and it will throw you different everytime. Being prepared for every kick bump or slide can make me ride tight if I’m not prepared in my training or tuned my suspension properly. I ride loose to let the bike do its work underneath me. When I’m riding tight I’m not able to react to what can arise in a split second. While riding loose I’m using less energy and letting my bike move around underneath me. Loose muscles react quicker then tense muscles.

 It is the first race of the year after a long winter. Race day is here. I wake up at 4:30. I feel prepared. I have put the laps in. I’m feeling strong from the work in the gym. My bike is tuned in the night before. I sit up in bed and put my feet to the cool floor. My first thought is to thank God for giving the this passion that is placed within me and bless me with a safe day. “Make me fast Lord.” I prayed. I walk down the stairs sluggishly. My mind is ready for the day but my body isn’t just yet. I hope in to the shower to make my body up. I get dressed and pick my favorite moto shirt to wear. It is black with a big logo on the front, showing off one of my sponsers. I go to the kiction to get some sandwiches ready for lunch along with all the snacks and drinks my mom and I may want threw out the day. I yell at mom from the kitction to her bedroom, “I’m almost ready. Are you?” She normally runs late but today she isn’t going to make us late, I thought. I hear here yell back, “Yeah. Are you making food for later?”  I responded with a doutfull, “OK. I just made some food for us. I’ll be waiting outside.” I walk out to the barn and wheel my bike into the back of my truck and load the rest of the stuff up. The sun is starting to rise as we pull out of the drive way. Mom makes a comment about the sun rise but I don’t pay much attention. I was to busy thinking about the track that I will be racing soon. The butterflies in my stomach are starting to set in now and I haven’t even got there yet. We arrive after a 2 hour drive. As we pull in I can see the track. The butterflies flying around in my stomach become a bit stronger. I find a place to park by the track to set up for the day. Seeing all the bikes and riders is making the butterflies almost overwhelming. But moving around to set things up helps relieve the anxiety to ride. I get singed in and check the practice order to see which one I’ll be in. I walk back to put my gear on to get ready for the morning practice before the race. They decide to group the bike brands together for practice. I have a Honda . They grouped the Yamaha and Honda together so that will be my practice. I get to the starting line and warm my bike up and strench a little while waiting for our practice to begin. I can’t wait till it my turn to ride. Finally the Suzuki and Kawisaki practice ends and let us go. I just tip toe around the for the first lap to check out the lines. It is a bit sloppy from all the watering the track workers have been doing this morning. I let her rip on the second lap getting to know what the dirt and jumps have to give me. Jumping the first jump was a pure shot of adrenalin that I have been longing for. I rail around a corner at full throttle.  I carved a new line that no one else was taking. The track was going to be good today, I thought to myself. I whip it off the finish line jump, giving my aprovel that this track was ready for my heart to be lived out here today.  Before I new it practice was over. After practice I calmed down. Getting all the pinned up energy out has me refocused in on the task at hand. I walk over to the post board to see the the moto order. On the way there is so much hussle and bussle. Bikes that are coming off the track weaving there way threw the pits. Looking around seeing all the faces that have the same bunring inside like me. After checking the moto order I'll be riding 3rd and 24nd of 26 moto's. I had singed up for two class to have more track time but they where going to be hours apart and that wasn't going to do me any good because the track will change so much between them. That thought quickly slips to the back of my head as I realize I will be riding in a few minutes. As I walk back threw the pits I start to tune into the task at hand. I didn't even notice the other people that and bikes anymore. Who was riding what new bike or rocking new gear. It was race time. I grab a quick snack before I head the starting line. My heart has been beating in the throat all morning and sitting here at the starting line is about to make my heart to pop out of my chest. There is a uneasy tension at the starting line. As I'm setting in staging, I glance at the rider next to me. He looks just as nervouse as me. I think to myself, am I faster then him? I look at a couple other riders and sizing up the compation. There are a lot of riders for my class today. It looks like a full gate and a full gate hold about 30. Making it even more important for a good start. The 2nd moto leaves the line in a roar right in front of me. I put my helmet and the world goes away. The warror with in comes to the surface. My whole focus is just me the bike and the track. My name is called and I pick my gate. I start to review the thoughts and feelings of the track, visulizing my way around the track. Thinking about the gate drops and how I was going to rocket to the holeshot. I don't even notice the riders on either side of me. I'm in the zone. The moto before me begins their last lap and we are singaled to start are bikes up. A cool machine is fast, so I wait another minute to start my bike. I see the 30 second board girl start to walk out and I start my bike. Everyone has been revving there bike for the past couple minutes. The gate worker starts to point us down to check each rider lined up. He points at me and I give him the nod that I'm ready. He countinues to check down the line. He stops pointing and the 10 sec board is raised. Nothing else exixes in this moment but the gate. The board is tunred sidesways. I stay the the gate. Nothing else exits. It feels like 30 seconds pass. I have the thottle at halfway and the clutch is bearly holding me back. The gate drops and I release the clutch while slamming the throttle wide open. I spin the rear tire off the line. In a instant I'm at the back of the pack. I just did the last thing I wanted to do. Going in to the first turn in the back of the pack. Its like a traffic jam. The first half of lap it was like this. Not being able to go all out was frustrating me. I told myself to remain calm and just breath because this race was going to be a long one trying to make passes. The pack starts to spread out a bit and I start making passes after the first lap. In the fourth turn into lap 2 I pass two riders that got caught up in the the deep ruts. I start to feel the flow of the track and bike underneath me. I enter a focus of another world. I pass riders inside, then outside, and splitting 2 more down the middle. Another lap passes and the riders are getting harder to catch. I think to myself what place I might be in but brush the thought away because there are still more riders ahead for me to pass. I notice the next rider for me to pass is a new friend. I was just riding out at his house the other day. Now I get to show off how much faster I am. He missed the big triple aftger the finish line. I switch my line up right as I hit the jump so I wouldnt land on him. I jumped right over him swouping to the inside for the next corner, setting meself up to pass the guy just in front of my friend, that almost caused us to crash. It is was potitry in montion weaving in and out. I come around for the last lap and I jump the finish line jump I look over and see my step dad flaying his arms. I thought to my self as I jump the next big triple jump, "is there something wrong with my bike, or is the pace I'm riding at got me into the top 10?" I put my head down and just focus on the next guy to pass till its over. I'm slowly catching the rider infront of me. I notice he is tiring. I'm feeling like it is still the first lap. The work I put in this winter in the gym is paying off. I'm almost close enough to make a pass in the 3rd turn. As we drag race up the hill towerd the 4th turn. I already new he wasn't going to risk the big ruts on the inside. I new something he didn't though. I had been forced to make passes everywhere on the track. So I darted to the inside to nail the one of the good ruts left there as he went around the slower inside. The rut I was in gave way and caused me to get side ways but I still held the thottle on steady. I tried to keep him behide me by cutting him off by darting infront of him before the next turn. Instead we hit. He went off the track and skipped the next turn, while I was just happy I'm still on two wheels. I was fired up now. He cut the track and I have to start all over trying to pass him again. Again I caught up in just 2 corners. I was surprized. This time I wasnt going to force the pass. This was the last pass I was able to make before the race ended. I deiced It was going to the the 2nd turn from the end. I kept the pursure on forcing him to think about me instead of taking the fastest lines. He was fast on the back half of the track but not as fast as me I thought. We whip are bikes sideways in mid air off the big double before the finish line. He decides to weather the ruts on the inside I was going to take to pass him. Dang! Ok, It was now or never. I rail around the outside only to notice he was cutting over right where I was going to jump threw the next section. Sneaky, he has played his cards well. I had no choice but to jump the same rythem as he was. I tried taking the outside for a last ditch effort on the last turn. He roled over the finish line, and looking over his shoulder gave a look of disrespect at me. I returned the glair with a rev of my motor. I lost this battle but the war was just begining.

This is the glory of moto.

The fire deep within me burns hot for this need. I believe I hate losing more then I like winning. It is the ultimate sport. Being metally strong to haddle the pressure.

There is no life outside of riding moto. This is what it takes to be the best I have willing gave myself to the life of moto

It's not plagiarism?

It's not plagiarism?

From the questions and looking at the website on this topic of buying an essa, I beleive that overall it is wrong. If you want to have an euducation you need to do the work. Yes, I'm temped to try this. Would I ever try it? I would like to say I have enough integerty to say no. However, I can see the point he makes on having someone else do the work for you when you will be going into a field that you would never your essa writing ablity. That being said I think it is ok to get idea's and recive help on wring an essa but having someone do the whole thing for is wrong.

Custom Writing

http://custom-writing.org/

Comstom-writing.org is a site that can be uses to build an essay for you. This site has very much potential to be use by many students not just in the U.S. but around the world. I, myself am temped to use this site to make an essay because I'm not the best at getting my thoughts to

Lovely recipe

Lovely recipe

The best thing I put in my stew over the past weekend was free range non hormone beef. It just smelled different as I was cooking it. It was as if I could smell the healthiness! From the evidence it would seem my man boobs could shrink by quit eating non hormone meats.

Skyy

Skyy Vodka.


This was the first thing that ended my brain when I thought of the sky. The way it looks it would seem it would never taste bad. Maybe it really does help clear your mind. I bet if I took a drink of this I could be as free as a bird when it fly's threw the sky. Before I new it I would be free of everything in my life and life would be as a dream. Then the morning comes. I start to think of the the haze of things that happend last night. Wait, what really happend? The last thing I remember was dancing to T-pain. How did I get home? I think I took a taxy. It was all a haze. The thought came to my mind to check my phone to see if I have been incriminated on facebook, but what went down last night or for that matter what happend.

Revised Fookend

Food weekend or, Fookend.

It was a nice cool Saturday evening. Normally i would grill when i feel in the mood to cook as i did on this night but i wanted to mix things up a bit. Probably cause of the fact I'm poor and there was much of anything when it came to food in the house. I looked in the freezer and saw there was some stew meet. I sat it out so it could thaw while I contemplated on what to do. I really had no clue what I was doing so I had to seek help of some kind to make something taste good out of this. So I called the best expert i knew on stew making, my sister. I called her up and he ran threw a few ideas on what to do. I headed to the store to track some of the ingredients that I didn’t have. Some vegetables spices and the secret ingredient, molasses. Mean while i called my girlfriend to make sure she would want to eat some before jumping off the deep end to complete this project. Once I had her on boat with the project I went gunge hoe on making my first stew. Just the right tempura, a pinch of this, not to much of that.  Ok, maybe that was way to much spice. It was to late now. It was in the stew. 3 hours later I tasted this final project and it was delicious. Not bad for my first try. Other then a little to much molasses it turned out pretty good. So it would seem I’m a successful cook. The bad thing now is that my girlfriend always want me to cook now. The past year I have developed a cooking habit and she seems like I’m the better cook and wants me to cook most of the time. I come from a a family that the men didn’t do the cooking. So it’s a new experience. I’m not sure how I feel about that either. “Why did the house wife cross the road? Who cares why isn’t she in the kitchen?” Thanks to my sister and girlfriend It would not have been possible to me to complete such a great stew. I cant wait to eat some more of it tonight. It consists of stew meat, corn, peas, water, beef bullion, molasses, oregano, onion, thyme, and basil.  After one hour and thirty minutes cooked on med to low it was done. I can taste it now!

Now that I have confidence of making things from scratch, I made up the rest of the stew meat last night with pineapple and apples. Made it into a quick stir fry. That was a fail. That would have been better on a shish kabob then a stir fry. Apples don’t cook well. They were granny apples. I think a better rout would have been to dip them in a caramel or chocolate for desert.

For desert we had tiramisu. To this day I still don’t really like it that much and the thought of this took me back. The reason I’m scared from this is because of barbeque sauce was on it instead of chocolate. I have never liked barbeque sauce and still don’t. My sister and I order some after we ate some dinner at a Italian restaurant in Bolivar. I remember our meal wasn’t that great and our waitress was a very ditsy. I took the first bit and was mortified buy what I was tasting. It has a bitterly weird taste that left me so puzzled and I instantly spit out what was in my mouth. Amber my sister saw this horrified look on my face and had to try some as well. She could believe that tiramisu could be so bad. Or maybe I was joking. She took a bit and was equally dismayed to what it was. “It’s not tiramisu that’s for sure,” she said.

I feel that I have the power to cook great things. I have even thought that going to a chef school to be a professional cook. Everyone seems to love the way I cook. I do like to go to great expense to make everything that make taste as best as possible. I enjoy the fact what I make with my hands is something disire to have and eat. Food is a need. Just becuase it is a need doesn't mean it can't be amazing to taste. I grew up eating potatos and green beans out of the can, with some kind of bland meat for dinner everynight. The rare ocansion I had equizzit means I would indulge in all the flavors. As I have become older I'm learning what is good food. When we engage in the activity of eating, our brain lights up, using more brain power then any other activity we do. Amazing to think just tasting an apple would do this. The taste buds on the tough is telling me if I like the sour taste; but wait, it's sweet also, giving the ok to swallow the first bit after chewing and squishing the sour yet sweet juices out of the bland, and little crunchy apple.

Food is engaging. You can have a nice date over dinner. Food brings family together. A business meeting held over lunch is a great way to grow ideas. Food bring people together. Friend getting together over a nice meal. Our stomach is a great way to stimulate our brain to have conversation and build relationships. Or just to take a walk down memory lane with an old friend. Maybe make future goals. Eating refocus our bring and body for the day. Just don't eat to much! Just enough to satisfy the mind and body.

Food Weekend

Food weekend. or Fookend.

It was a nice cool Saterday evening. Normally i would grill when i feel in the mood to cook as i did on this night but i wanted to mix things up a bit. Proberly cause of the fact I'm poor and there was much of anything when it came to food in the house. I looked in the freezer and saw there was some stew meet. I sat it out so it could thaw while I contenplated on what to do. I really had no clue what I was doing so I had to seek help of some kind to make something taste good out of this. So I called the best expert i knew on stew making, my sister. I called her up and he ran threw a few ideas on what to do. I headed to the store to track some of the ingreedences that I didn’t have. Some vegtibuls spices and the sercrect ingreedent, molasus. Mean while i called my girlfriend to make sure she would want to eat some before jumping off the deep end to complete this project. Ouce I had her on boat with the project I went gung hoe on making my first stew. Just the right tempura, a pinch of this, not to much of that.  Ok maybe that was way to much spice. It was to late now. It was in the stew. 3 hours later I tasted this final project and it was delishous. Not bad for my first try. Other then a little to much molasus it turned out pretty good. So it would seem I’m a successful cook. The bad thing now is that my girlfriend always want me to cook now. The past year I have develoved a cooking habit and she seems like I’m the better cook and wants me to cook most of the time. I come from a a family that the men didn’t do the cooking. So it’s a new expireance. I’m not sure how I feel about that either. “Why did the house wife cross the road? Who cares why isn’t she in the kitchin?” Thanks to my sister and girlfriend It would not have been porssable to me to complete such a great stew. I cant wait to eat some more of it tonight. It consistes of stew meat, corn, peas, water, beef boulion, molasas, oragao, onion, thyne, and basile.  After one hour and thirty minutes cooked on med to low it was done. I can taste it now!

Now that I have confindedacne of making things from scratch, I made up the rest of the stew meat last night with pinapple and apples. Made it into a quick stir fry. That was a fail. That would have been better on a shishabob then a stir fry. Apples don’t cook well. They were granny apples. I think a better rout would have been to dip them in a carmel or choclete for desert.

For desert we had taramesue. To this day I still don’t really like it that much and the thought of this took me back. The reason I’m scarded from this is because of barbeque sauce was on it instead of choclete. I have never liked barbeque sauce and still don’t. My sister and I order some after we ate some dinner at a Itallian resterrant in Bolivar. I remember our meal wasn’t that great and our waitress was a very ditcy. I took the first bit and was morafied buy what I was tasting. It has a bitterly weird taste that left me so puzzled and I instantly spit out what was in my mouth. Amber my sister saw this horrified look on my face and had to try some as well. She could believe that taramusue could be so bad. Or maybe I was joking. She took a bit and was equally dismayed to what it was. “It’s not taramisue that’s forsure,” she said.