TriggeringFairies
New member
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2013
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- English
- Home Country
- Spain
- Current Location
- Singapore
Hi, I need someone to review and help me correct my essay. The topic was to describe any athletic or sport related experience:
Cheers. Thousands of faces cheering for each of my rivals and I, millions more discussing predictions on who may win, betting their money due to their luck and assured attitudes. I was in standby position, my profile facing the path I was to outrun from my colleagues, my opponents.
The weather was warm, the sun’s sunrays encouraging my pores to sweat more than the usual causing my attire to drench its stench overpowering any other scent that roamed the environment. They craved the position just as much as I did, its benefits, the simple luxury.
The usual “clink” you heard when someone was preparing to pull the trigger could be heard, signaling the contestants to get both physically and mentally ready to beat these strangers, these representatives of their country, something they held pride over without shame.
Sweat glands and hair erector muscles working with one another like colleagues assured that each individual would do their job properly. I set my body to the second position, the final position acquired in order to activate the proper manner in running. It was an art itself, not one a beginner could master but was able to master. Unlike singing, which you have to be born with to acquire such skill, being able to trigger ones running ability was an art as equal as of that of learning Tae Kwon Do or Judo.
The starter pulled the trigger, announcing to everyone that we were allowed to run now. I sliced through the air at my optimum speed, outrunning a couple yet being outrun by others. The air’s particles had collided upon my face, no longer passing through or caressing it for they were being intruded by my pass-through. My arms swung beside me, mechanically moving to and fro in perfect co-ordination. Each biceps and triceps working with one another, forming an antagonistic pair.
I pushed myself to defy my maximum velocity, determinant to outrun my opponents. The cheers have all blended with each other, a loud incomprehensive buzzing to my focused mind-set. I could smell it, the sweat now stronger than ever, suffocating the unbearable yet making it a tiny “tick” that I was able to ignore. I ran faster, slicing thicker into the air, passing a couple more runners. The floor was sticky due to the sun’s heat, melting the upmost part of the odd ground texture.
I bit my tongue a little too hard, blood seeping from the tiny slit I had created, oozing at a constant pace compared to the pace I was running in. Saliva had mingled with it, experiment with one another, the metallic taste piercing my taste buds yet not strong enough to make me cough it out.
The line was near, calling me to speed faster than ever, encouraging me to beat my only opponent left. I ran through him and onto the luxuries waiting for me, cheers erupting from all sides of the stadium, camera flashes blinding me for mere seconds as photographers attempted to capture my victory.
This was it, my path to success, my country’s pride, all the luxuries were finally mine, my recognition finally has risen.
Cheers. Thousands of faces cheering for each of my rivals and I, millions more discussing predictions on who may win, betting their money due to their luck and assured attitudes. I was in standby position, my profile facing the path I was to outrun from my colleagues, my opponents.
The weather was warm, the sun’s sunrays encouraging my pores to sweat more than the usual causing my attire to drench its stench overpowering any other scent that roamed the environment. They craved the position just as much as I did, its benefits, the simple luxury.
The usual “clink” you heard when someone was preparing to pull the trigger could be heard, signaling the contestants to get both physically and mentally ready to beat these strangers, these representatives of their country, something they held pride over without shame.
Sweat glands and hair erector muscles working with one another like colleagues assured that each individual would do their job properly. I set my body to the second position, the final position acquired in order to activate the proper manner in running. It was an art itself, not one a beginner could master but was able to master. Unlike singing, which you have to be born with to acquire such skill, being able to trigger ones running ability was an art as equal as of that of learning Tae Kwon Do or Judo.
The starter pulled the trigger, announcing to everyone that we were allowed to run now. I sliced through the air at my optimum speed, outrunning a couple yet being outrun by others. The air’s particles had collided upon my face, no longer passing through or caressing it for they were being intruded by my pass-through. My arms swung beside me, mechanically moving to and fro in perfect co-ordination. Each biceps and triceps working with one another, forming an antagonistic pair.
I pushed myself to defy my maximum velocity, determinant to outrun my opponents. The cheers have all blended with each other, a loud incomprehensive buzzing to my focused mind-set. I could smell it, the sweat now stronger than ever, suffocating the unbearable yet making it a tiny “tick” that I was able to ignore. I ran faster, slicing thicker into the air, passing a couple more runners. The floor was sticky due to the sun’s heat, melting the upmost part of the odd ground texture.
I bit my tongue a little too hard, blood seeping from the tiny slit I had created, oozing at a constant pace compared to the pace I was running in. Saliva had mingled with it, experiment with one another, the metallic taste piercing my taste buds yet not strong enough to make me cough it out.
The line was near, calling me to speed faster than ever, encouraging me to beat my only opponent left. I ran through him and onto the luxuries waiting for me, cheers erupting from all sides of the stadium, camera flashes blinding me for mere seconds as photographers attempted to capture my victory.
This was it, my path to success, my country’s pride, all the luxuries were finally mine, my recognition finally has risen.
