I am sorry for posting this really late but I remember my days on early morning practice so I thought I would write this. If its not in the right place please feel free to move it, and sorry if its cr*p lol

My special hedge

I sit on my special hedge
On a cold summers morn
As the sun raises to greet me
I sit there and yawn

I grab another coffee
And watch the steam rise from the mug
People say that I am mad
They don’t understand the racing bug

From miles away I hear a noise
That really makes me smile
As I look at the morning mist
Clearing from the mountain mile

Huddled snugly in my coat
My body begins to thaw
At the sight of the first machine
And that low throaty roar

Early morning practice
There’s nothing that’s the same
I love the freezing mornings
I’m even here in the rain

I try to think of somewhere else
Somewhere I would rather be
But as my shivers turn to warmth
Nowhere on earth comes to me

This is my special place
A place to watch the heroes
The heroes of the days to come
Those that went before

Heroes of the days gone by
I respect them all, not one
But as always the day draws near
The practice is nearly gone

I will always remember those days
When the cold became a friend
Those early morns up on the hills
There was no other place in the end.