This is a draft of my Common App Personal Essay that I will be sending to Northwestern, Dartmouth, and also my Penn State application. I think I have an interesting topic but I'm a little concerned with my content and structure. Any advice/criticisms you have will be much appreciated!
Topographically, Iowa is considered one of the flattest states in the America. However, from the vantage point of an out-of-date 10 speed bicycle, it is easy to make mountains out of molehills. As a resident of Pennsylvania, I can't honestly say that riding a bike across the state of Iowa was at the top of my summer to-do list; but for some reason my family never seems to define "vacation" as a chance to relax, but more frequently as an opportunity for adventure. Naturally, when the Des Moines Register published the route for Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI), my impossibly nostalgic father jumped on the possibility of us making a pilgrimage to back to his home state. He had twice participated in RAGBRAI as a high school student, when the event was still in its infancy.
During the abysmal July road trip to the border of Nebraska and Iowa, I could think of nothing besides how much time I would spend seated on my ancient Fuji bicycle and began apologizing in advance to certain parts of my body. On the eve of departure, it is ceremonious for all riders to dip the back wheel of their bicycles in the Missouri River. As I walked my bike down the rocky riverbank with 15,000 of my best friends, I had already fallen victim to the belief that the 442 miles that lay between my current location and the eastern border of Iowa were comprised entirely of flat roads. However after the first two days of riding 52 and 64 miles respectively, I came to the realization of what a grueling experience the remainder of RAGBRAI was going to be. RAGBRAI patrons always warn novices about the Four H's: heat, humidity, hills, and headwinds. The first 48 hours of my RAGBRAI experience was a sickening mixture of all four. While lying in a soggy tent with my brother and cousins, I considered the literal and figurative road that lay ahead. It was that deciding moment that I made a commitment to myself. I don't know why this activity suddenly became so important to me. It would be easy to take a day away from my bike and travel to the next town in my family's air-conditioned Suburban. There was no reward for punishing myself in the brutalities of a Midwestern summer. But now that the thought of resignation had crossed my mind, I knew that I would hate myself if I succumbed to it.
Discounting the exhausting hours cycling, the next five days were an enjoyable mixture of homemade pies and Midwestern hospitality. When I finally dipped my front tire in waters of the Mississippi, I didn't feel an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, but mainly hunger. However on the rare occasion when this anecdote is relevant to a conversation, I love to see the intrigued and bewildered expressions when I recount how I have ridden a bicycle the entire way across Iowa.
Topographically, Iowa is considered one of the flattest states in the America. However, from the vantage point of an out-of-date 10 speed bicycle, it is easy to make mountains out of molehills. As a resident of Pennsylvania, I can't honestly say that riding a bike across the state of Iowa was at the top of my summer to-do list; but for some reason my family never seems to define "vacation" as a chance to relax, but more frequently as an opportunity for adventure. Naturally, when the Des Moines Register published the route for Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI), my impossibly nostalgic father jumped on the possibility of us making a pilgrimage to back to his home state. He had twice participated in RAGBRAI as a high school student, when the event was still in its infancy.
During the abysmal July road trip to the border of Nebraska and Iowa, I could think of nothing besides how much time I would spend seated on my ancient Fuji bicycle and began apologizing in advance to certain parts of my body. On the eve of departure, it is ceremonious for all riders to dip the back wheel of their bicycles in the Missouri River. As I walked my bike down the rocky riverbank with 15,000 of my best friends, I had already fallen victim to the belief that the 442 miles that lay between my current location and the eastern border of Iowa were comprised entirely of flat roads. However after the first two days of riding 52 and 64 miles respectively, I came to the realization of what a grueling experience the remainder of RAGBRAI was going to be. RAGBRAI patrons always warn novices about the Four H's: heat, humidity, hills, and headwinds. The first 48 hours of my RAGBRAI experience was a sickening mixture of all four. While lying in a soggy tent with my brother and cousins, I considered the literal and figurative road that lay ahead. It was that deciding moment that I made a commitment to myself. I don't know why this activity suddenly became so important to me. It would be easy to take a day away from my bike and travel to the next town in my family's air-conditioned Suburban. There was no reward for punishing myself in the brutalities of a Midwestern summer. But now that the thought of resignation had crossed my mind, I knew that I would hate myself if I succumbed to it.
Discounting the exhausting hours cycling, the next five days were an enjoyable mixture of homemade pies and Midwestern hospitality. When I finally dipped my front tire in waters of the Mississippi, I didn't feel an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, but mainly hunger. However on the rare occasion when this anecdote is relevant to a conversation, I love to see the intrigued and bewildered expressions when I recount how I have ridden a bicycle the entire way across Iowa.