Personal Statement
At 10,000 feet of elevation, I peered down the steep, icy slope. Jittery with anticipation, my coach adjusted my race skis for our first run of the season. It was time. My teammate Riley beat me to start, but I was soon chasing after him, launching from one turn to the next. Then suddenly, Riley streaked across my vision and hurdled into the trees. The adrenaline pulsing through me catalyzed a chain reaction of anxiety, fear, and sheer panic. Is he okay? I felt blood rushing to my cheeks as I abruptly raced towards his twisted body. Breath. Focus. I tried to slow my heart. Despite my fear, my hands were steady and my thoughts were clear. I recalled my First Responder training. One by one, I checked Riley’s airways, breathing,
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Observing this, I was overwhelmed with the urge to alleviate his pain and instinctively offered my hand. Thankful for human contact, he took it, knowing that he was not alone. Although my heart was racing internally, I fought hard to maintain my composure. Similar to when my coach told jokes before my race run, I was able to coax a simile out of Riley. Despite the severity of the situation, these moments of humor helped him forget about pain, even just for an instant. I will never underestimate the healing properties of a smile. Afterwards, I reflected on what I had just done. Analogous to just before starting a race, I channeled anxiety into focus, relaxed, and trusted my training to achieve a specific goal. Among many life skills that I have gained as a competitive ski racer, I learned how to conduct myself under extreme stress and found that simple acts of compassion can often be the best medicine. Riley’s incident opened my eyes to a career in medicine, where I recognized the same skills I learned as a competitive ski racer in the Cal Sports Medicine physicians I have …show more content…
I learned that success rarely comes without pain and sacrifice. Every fall, failed race, or bad training session tested my psyche. On a few occasions, when my mind was flooded with pain, anxiety, and doubt, I asked myself: why am I doing this? My life would be so much easier if I just quit now. But, the answer was always there. I do what I do because even though I hold high personal expectations, I am confident in my ability to achieve them. I have learned to embrace these negative emotions, recognizing that they are only temporary and a natural part of life. After all, what Olympian hasn’t fallen a few times? What scientist hasn’t failed an experiment? What doctor hasn’t doubted their career? These times of adversity have taught me that above all else, I must always believe in myself and look for the positive light in all aspects of life. Analogous to a muscle, resilience is strengthened by every impediment, and
Terry knew that aches and pains are common in athlete’s lives. At the end of his first year of university there was a new pain in his knee. One morning Terry woke up to see that he could no longer stand up. A week later Terry found out that it was not just an ache he had a malignant tumor; his leg would have to be cut off six inches above the knee. Terry’s doctor told him that he had a chance of living but the odds were fifty to seventy percent. He also said that he should be glad it happened now fore just 2 years ago the chance of living was fifteen percent. The night before his operation a former coach brought Terry a magazine featuring a man who ran a marathon after a similar operation. Terry didn’t want to do something small if he was going to do something he was going to do it big. "I am competitive" Terry said, "I’m a dreamer. I like challenges. I don’t give up. When I decided to do it, I knew it was going to be all out. There was no in between Terry’s sixteen month follow up he saw all the young people suffering and getting weak by the disease. He never forgot what he saw and felt burdened to thoughts that died to run this marathon. He was one of the lucky one in three people to survive in the cancer clinics. Terry wrote asking for sponsorship " I could not leave knowing that these faces and feelings would still be here even though I would be set free of mine, s...
I am now officially in my Senior year of Cross Country , and am close to the end of my season. My first race of this year though was a big accomplishment for me, because I hadn`t been able to run. When I ran that race though it made me just so happy I was able to finish it, I was`nt happy with the time, but there is always time for improvement. I was glad to be racing again and being apart of the team again. I believe that my injuries were a barrier in my way, but they did not stop my sports career.
Sports are not for everyone. I tried a variety of sports throughout my childhood but I was never really athlete material. I am as slow as a turtle and I have little to no hand-eye coordination, but I gave each sport a try. It was truly a shock when I decided to run cross-country since I had no speed whatsoever.
I rush toward the mechanical clanking and rattling of the ski lift and collapse into the chair. Exhausted, I use this time to restore my energy. I begin to form the image of the steep route that I plan to attempt on my next run. Its nearly vertical face, large jagged rocks, and rough terrain send shivers down my spine and adrenaline into my veins. I painfully recall my previous attempt, where I did not perform the necessary technique in order to survive the run without a crash. This time,
No one wants to be defeated, but sometimes we do have defeats. For example, the United States lost some battles in the Civil War but in the end they won the war. Maya Angelou is known for expressing this idea of perseverance through one of her famous quotes. This quote stood out to me because, like everyone else, I have faced obstacles that have knocked me down once or twice. It is one’s own choice if they want to stand back up and succeed or if they want to allow themselves to be defeated by a difficult situation. In track, there have been many times when I had an off day, and I did not compete to my fullest ability in one event. However, I cannot afford to let that
I joined my school’s cross country team in the summer. At the beginning we performed pre-season workouts. The training was tough, but my proud personality and the very thought of what I had to gain kept me motivated and helped me push through the pain. Every time I felt like giving up or quitting, I would say to myself, “This pain is only temporary; remember that the reward will be permanent, and it will be worth the pain that I endure today.” I was able to push through the
The heart in my chest is racing faster than formula one cars. I still cannot believe I’m at basketball practice today with an injured ankle running drills as if I’m running for my life. I feel very weak in the knees and hunched over trying to catch my breath without causing too much trouble. Working through the pain because I refuse to deal with my crippling inadequacy issues, I glance over to see one our managers looking at my teammates and me as she is cheering us on. Although with me it was more than a glance. With our eyes, locked, I could see the sympathy in her eyes mixed with low levels of passion.
You walk into the room and feel a warm gust of air greet you at the door. The smell of cleaner fills your nose as your shoes squeak along the freshly mopped mats. The clock strikes 3:30 and the coach blows his whistle that seems to penetrate your ears with a piercing screech. Your body aches and your mind tells you to leave and quit. On the other hand, your heart tells you to go on. Through all the pain, your heart always seems to whisper to you, “This will make you great. This extra day of pain will make the difference.” Even though practice makes your bones ache, your joints grind, your skin bleed, and your body swell; there is a greater hardship to come.
The start of the 2002 track season found me concerned with how I would perform. After a disastrous bout with mononucleosis ended my freshmen track season, the fear of failure weighed heavily on my mind. I set a goal for myself in order to maintain focus and to push myself like nothing else would. My goal for my sophomore track season was to become a state champion in the 100 meter hurdles. I worked hard everyday at practice and went the extra mile, like running every Sunday, to be just that much closer to reaching my goal. The thought of standing highest on the podium in the center of the field, surrounded by hundreds of spectators, overcame my thoughts of complaining every time we had a hard workout. When I closed my eyes, I pictured myself waiting in anticipation as other competitors names were called out, one by one, until finally, the booming voice announced over the loudspeaker, "...and in first place, your 2002 100 meter hurdle champion, from Hotchkiss, Connie Dawson." It was visions like these that drove me to work harder everyday.
The hill was so long. I could feel my lungs in my throat, as if they had climbed up my trachea and into my mouth so that they could get more oxygen. I ran through plume after plume of my own breath, marking my progression as I emerged from each misty cloud only to encounter another one and the slow uphill gradient of the hill beneath my feet. All I wanted was to stop, but at the same time I couldn’t; I didn’t want to be left behind, or slow down the rest of the team, so in my mind I reminded myself of the day’s lesson from Coach: knees up, small steps, balls of your feet, push to the end of the hill, extra kick at the end, then back to rolling your feet, heels first, widen your stride, ignore the pain. Weakness is pain leaving the body. Whatever.
The worst words I’ve heard in my time fencing. These words sparked a long and boring two months of nothing. No running no fencing, no unnecessary movement. This long sabbatical has sparked great change, transcended my athletic self and influenced who I am as a person, through the ways it unleashed a new level of work ethic in my athletic self. Before I was injured I had it quite easy, do to a large amount of time I had spent fencing I could obtain success with relative ease. But now, I have no such ease. I had lost my point control and most of my footwork. An average person may have seen this as terrible and an end, but I’ve seen it as a beginning of new potential. This beginning has forced me to work at a redoubled rate, pushing myself to great extents to achieve the prowesses I once held. I developed habits of work, the days of half-assed practices and little effort are over. I have been motivated in a better way to change my habits and force myself to attain the greatness I desire in even better ways than before my injury. Not only did I apply this to my fencing life, but I have applied this to who I am as a person. I have taken the lessons learned in diligence and applied it to my school work, in any class where I have any struggle I make an appointment with the teacher and I complete every homework assignment as soon as possible. I have made the worst moment of my fencing career into the best. This is how
Looking at the 1.5 mile length of asphalt, the track was awaiting the roar of the cars racing inches from each other and the speed that shall come. I couldn’t wait tell race day was here at Texas Motor Speedway. We drove up to the bare camping grounds, all that was there were the few campers that have been waiting for the cars to hit the track. We would always be camping in the camper camping spots because of the possibility of really drunk neighbours. Plus the RV’s and Campers would block some of the wind from blowing on our tent.
Finally, my decision was made and I decided to run track. My decision was not easy, nevertheless I decided to run track despite what others said about it being extremely hard. On the first day of track practice, my heart felt like it was going to explode from within my chest before it even began. I looked around me and noticed several kids around my age, but most had participated in it before and were
" I can do it… I can …" I kept repeating this line over and over again
I also learned to never give up on the things I want to do. I remember how Joe rode alongside me in my own battles to break the barriers of my deep-water phobia. “Strive to be the best,” she imprinted in my brain. In the face of my barriers at my drowning moment I held firm in my faith, even as I faced with my own mortality. I won’t achieve the best swimmer title until I learn to accept those miss-hits and unlucky