Standing between the black satin curtains looking across the black stage, stained with glitter and shoe scuffs. Glaring at another teammate, almost indistinguishable in our crisp, tan shoes and, flashy costumes, as we are ready to compete. My hair pulled up tightly into a sleek bun, as firm because of the layers of hair gel, hairspray and glitter. A shimmery barrette clipped next to my bun and securely fastened. Wearing tacky blue eyeshadow, bright rosy blush, extra-long fake eyelashes with diamonds, and smooth color stay lipstick across my lips. I stand with a big bright smile on my face trying to disguise or maybe even forget the nervousness I feel inside. My stomach is jumping around in every direction possible and I feel like I could pass out at any second. I run my deep scared eyes past the hundreds of anxious spectators and envy the calm, relaxed teams to the sides of me, knowing that they are all secretly hoping we have a horrible performance. Suddenly, it's as if the already blinding lights are beating down on me and the temperature raises twenty degrees. My palms begin to sweat, and the butterflies inside speed up. Unclear sounds surround me, but I cannot obtain any of this, my mind is a black hole. The mysteriously stern looks of the judges, sitting in a neat row without even the slightest upward crack of a smile in the corner, …show more content…
My jaw begins to tighten from smiling and shaking with anxiety. I run through the routine once more in my head and pinpoint all of the little details I must remember. I take one more deep breath of the stuffy, bland air to fill my lungs with the oxygen I will need to complete the routine. I hear the announcer blast over the loudspeaker that my fellow teammates and I may take the stage. I glare over at my teammates a big flashy smile and begin to enter grandly onto the stage, taking my position before the routine
Again I was here to work and be my best. Half way into practice coach asked “who (faces off)”? I raised my hand because why not? We went to the other side of the felid and I watched before I volunteered to (face off). Seemed easy enough for me so I gave it my all.
When we first arrived I’d thought we’d taken a wrong turn and went to a traveling gypsy convention by mistake. The whole field outside the school was filled with tents of various sizes and colors. 200 wrestlers, about thirty of which were girls, filtered about the area. As my soon-to-be teammates and I headed to the first practice, anxiety gnawed at my stomach like a dog with a bone (FL). I wanted to impress everybody, and prove that I could make it in this sport. Before we started, the coach patted me on the shoulder. “I’ve got your back all right.” he told me. I smiled and nodded. At least one person was looking out for me.
As I started my routine on the back bar, an image appeared in my head. I saw myself seven years ago, hands gripping tightly onto the bar with my chin hovering inches above the surface. My tiny arms were shaking and my knuckles turned ghostly white, but the cheers of my team and coaches motivated me to stay up. Just before the pain became too great to bear, I heard the last girl’s feet hit the floor. I stayed on the bar until I was aware of what was happening, I had just won the annual chin up hold contest! I was overwhelmed with joy as I dropped to the floor, girls running to congratulate me. This contest was a huge deal at my gym. My picture hung on the back wall for a whole year, so I was reminded of my accomplishment every day. I snapped back into reality, smiling to myself. The memories were part of what made the gym so special to me. Just because I was leaving the gym, didn’t mean I was leaving behind all the memories as
I release solidly, and I catch solidly. My next two triples follow in the same fashion. I begin to talk myself up in my head, trying to prepare but also relax myself for the next phase of the audition.
Sliding the barn doors open, I step into a warm, comforting environment. Musty straw mingles with the sharp aroma of pine shavings, complementing each other. A warm glow from sporadically placed incandescent lightbulbs richens the leather tack, all cleaned and hanging ready for the day's use. From it wafts the smell of a new pair of shoes. The fruity essence of "Show Sheen", applied after yesterday's baths, still lingers in the air. Even the harsh stinging scent of urine and manure is welcome at this early morning hour. Breaking open a bale of hay, I sense the sweetness of the dried timothy as it engulfs my olfactory system, making me wish my queasy stomach had not made me skip breakfast. I am nervous, as are many others. I know that the day ahead will bring excitement, dread, triumph, and defeat. The unpredictable nature of horse shows causes frenzied questions, like salmon spawning, to run constantly though my mind. Will the judge like my own particular style? What if the red flowers bordering the first jump spook my horse? What if a piece of paper on the ground blows into the ring? Will this horse show be a success? The outcome depends not just on me; but a...
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, echoes through my head as I walk to the middle of the mat. "At 160lbs Aidan Conner of La Junta vs. Rodney Jones of Hotchkiss." All I can think of is every bead of sweat, every drip of blood, every mile, every push up, every tear. Why? All of this: just to be victorious. All in preparation for one match, six minutes. For some these six minutes may only be a glimpse, and then again for some it may be the biggest six minutes of their life. Many get the chance to experience it more than once. Some may work harder and want it more than others, but they may never get the chance. All they get is a moral victory. Every kid, every man comes into the tournament with a goal. For some is to win, for some is to place, others are just happy to qualify. These six minutes come on a cold frigid night in February at a place called the Pepsi Center. Once a year this gathering takes place when the small and the large, the best of the best, come to compete in front thousands of people. I am at the Colorado State Wrestling Championships.
Nothing much you can do when you get to the point, they just kind of toss you into the fire. I recall the first time I went through the audition process:. I walked into the auditorium, the stage lights turned up all way, and seating set in darkness. As I made my way up to the stage, Tina stopped me to hand me a script and said, “Just head up to the stage.” As I walked up there was a sudden wave of anxiety and nervousness that washed over me. When I finally looked back at the seats my sight was blinded by the beams of lights that shot above me. Then she just simply said, “Let’s Begin.” Twenty minutes of nervous performing and the audition was
Most days end the same way. I get home at 4:00, the house is empty and quiet. I walk inside already grinning at what's to come after I put everything down. Then, in the span of two minutes, I'm sliding on the wood floors of the kitchen singing at the top of my lungs the certain song that's had the pleasure of being trapped in my head the whole day. The empty room is my stage, and whatever happens to be in my hands is my microphone.
Today i will be writing a personal narrative about an incident that changed my life. I will be talking about the time I flew over 3,000 miles to Alaska. Around the beginning of last summer my grandparents told me I was going to be going to Alaska on a cruise. In early June of last year was probably one of scariest moments of my life! I flew on a plane for the first time. The day of the flight was pretty scary; between being in an airport and going through security to actually flying on a plane! Once we got in the air I was able to relax and actually enjoy the flight. Being in the clouds and being able to look out over the earth was amazing. i'm glad i could have the experience of being on a plane with my family. We flew into Seattle which was fun because we went shopping and went to a really nice restaurant and then boarded a cruise ship that would take us through Alaska.
Melanie woke up with nothing other than research on her mind. She knew that her last name was Easton and so was her mother's. What she didn't know was if that was her mother’s married name, or for that matter, if her mother had ever been married.
Everyone loves a thrill. We watch movies that make us rethink what is in the dark with us, jump off of bridges and cliffs with our only savior being a bungee cord that may or may not be 10 years old, and we create gravity defying, speeding cars without motors and brakes. The crazy thing is, we do it all for fun. I, however, didn’t have a fun time when I went on a roller coaster that went upside down for the first time.
It was me and my friend in my car. We had drove over to St Louis, Missouri during the summer. We were 9 hours away when we had decided it was time to drive back home to Des Moines.
My body got cold for the first time in seven years. I was scared of a two-minute routine that I had practiced a thousand times. When I stepped onto the stage, I could feel my heart as it rapidly pumped. I was scared, as we set for the routine. The first task to complete was a standing tumbling. “Come on Michelle, jump!” I screamed inside my head. “You have to pull your legs around.” I landed. “Good, next was running tumbling.” As I moved to the next spot to start my running tumbling, everything seemed to move in slow motion. I was the last tumbler to go. “six…five…four…three…two…one” It was my turn. My legs started to run; my hands hit, then my feet. So far, I was okay.
As an eight-year-old little girl walking into this massive gymnasium filled with girls who look the part, coaches strutting around, judges watching your every move. I want to run away.
My heart was pounding, and all I could hear was a crowd of people cheering for the main event to begin. There was a group people standing gathered around watching in awe, as my opponent displayed amazing pad work for a warm up routine. I wasn’t scared, but the idea of losing in front of a home crowd in Virginia didn’t sit well in my stomach. Suddenly, a burst of energy struck my body, as I had a bit of fatigue from a fight the night before. I was twenty-three years old with the hopes and dreams of a successful comeback. The five years separated from high school taught me a great deal about hardship, sacrifice, and the value of time itself. Against all odds, I dared to return to the ring and recapture a dream frozen in the never ending valley of yesteryear.