wellesleygirl
Nov 4, 2012
Undergraduate / 'Grew up running' - Short Answer for Common App - Running [4]
This is for the Common App short answer. Please give any advice you might have on how to improve it! (also, the dashed line is my last name, but I didn't want to actually post it)
I grew up running. I am a -------; it's what we do. My childhood was spent cheering older siblings from the sidelines, dreaming of the day when I too would be the shining star. I remember when I was six, challenging my cousin to a race. She accepted giggling, at which I was slightly annoyed. This was, after all, a race-a very serious business. Count of three and we were off! I surged ahead, pigtails blowing in the wind, stubby legs stretched as far as they could, confident I was a match for any of my siblings. That is, until I glanced back to see my cousin collapsed in a puddle of tears at the thought of losing. Visions of imaginary medals forgotten, I picked her up, cheering her to a first-place finish.
Not much has changed. I am still the little girl who delights in a race, though I am not the record-breaking runner I had so long envisioned. Medals are rare, but what matters is not always measured in gold. The teammates I run with count as much as my place at the finish line. When I asked my coach why he chose me to be a captain, since I am neither the fastest nor the loudest, he confided, "When someone is crying or hurt, I know you'll be there." No ribbons around my neck or plaques on the wall could mean more.
This is for the Common App short answer. Please give any advice you might have on how to improve it! (also, the dashed line is my last name, but I didn't want to actually post it)
I grew up running. I am a -------; it's what we do. My childhood was spent cheering older siblings from the sidelines, dreaming of the day when I too would be the shining star. I remember when I was six, challenging my cousin to a race. She accepted giggling, at which I was slightly annoyed. This was, after all, a race-a very serious business. Count of three and we were off! I surged ahead, pigtails blowing in the wind, stubby legs stretched as far as they could, confident I was a match for any of my siblings. That is, until I glanced back to see my cousin collapsed in a puddle of tears at the thought of losing. Visions of imaginary medals forgotten, I picked her up, cheering her to a first-place finish.
Not much has changed. I am still the little girl who delights in a race, though I am not the record-breaking runner I had so long envisioned. Medals are rare, but what matters is not always measured in gold. The teammates I run with count as much as my place at the finish line. When I asked my coach why he chose me to be a captain, since I am neither the fastest nor the loudest, he confided, "When someone is crying or hurt, I know you'll be there." No ribbons around my neck or plaques on the wall could mean more.