Hi,
I'm working on the Common Application essay #1:
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilema you have faced and its impact on you.
and would appreciate any input.
Thanks
Here I go again, preparing to hurl my body though the air. During the approach I hear nothing but blood pumping through my veins; there is a faint ache in my legs; I push through the discomfort, step forward, and breathe deep. Hold the edge and jump; feet tight, arms in, body still, foot down, and pull out strong. Success! I worked two years for this fleeting moment of accomplishment - seven seconds from start to finish - landing a double axel. Predawn practices before school, more practices after school, late night show practices, and competitions across the eastern seaboard. Everyday I spend hours in the cold, no matter how I feel, practicing, perfecting, and performing my passion. I've calculated that over twenty five hundred hours (one hundred fifty thousand minutes or nine million seconds) of my life have been spent on the ice, during which skating has provided me with many opportunities to learn life's lessons as I glide across the ice.
It seems inevitable that jumping from a slippery surface, revolving numerous times in the air, and landing single footed on a blade just 1/4" wide will entail more spills than successes. I've sprained ankles, been black and blue all over, and gone to the hospital with a concussion from landing on my head, rather than my feet. Sure the worry that I can hurt myself is always in the back of my mind, and I might balk at an attempt of a jump every once in a while, but this sport has taught me that whether my fear is as small as peanut , or as large as failure when I'm trying my hardest, I can greet these situations with confidence and self-assurance, chase them down, and get over it.
All the hours spent training ultimately led to competitions, and from my first experience, I was hooked. The beautiful dress, the opportunity to perform a routine that I had spent months refining, and the thrill of winning a medal was an allure that a five year old couldn't resist. Competing became the reason to train and winning seemed to come easily for the first few years. (Daunting music swells) Then came Hillsborough, NC. Sure, I had occasionally fallen during a competition program. However, that day I fell three times during a two and a half minute program, which felt like it lasted two and a half hours. I was mortified. I found inner strength that I didn't think I possessed. I kept getting up, smiling at the judges, and continuing to skate until I reached the end of the program. From that experience I learned that there are two concurrent competitions; one against the other skaters, and the other against myself; I couldn't truly be beaten unless I allowed myself to give up. At that instant I understood how important it was to keep my composure even when things weren't going my way and that when you've been knocked down, you don't stay down. You push yourself to complete your goal, have pride in the job you've done and refuse to allow a low score to batter your confidence.
"Are you going to the Olympics?" is the question I am frequently asked by friends and family since I began to skate. Of course that was my dream as a little girl, but I recognized that I would never quite make it to the top. That epiphany is enough to cause many skaters to quit, but skating has become about more than winning to me. The combination of athletic skill and grace in creating the lines of a flawless spiral, the melding of mind and body to execute a perfect step sequence, and the thrill of landing a new double or triple jump, are what compel me to skate everyday. This winter I will take the Senior Freestyle skating test, the highest level assessment administered by the United States Figure Skating Association. When I pass this test I will be a "double gold" skater and qualified to step on the ice with Olympians like Michelle Kwan and Shizuka Arakawa. I may not be able to out-skate them, but I will be ready to skate with them.
So, here I go again: step forward, breathe deep, hold the edge and jump; feet tight, arms in, body still, foot down, and pull out strong. Sometimes no matter how perfect the jump is in the air, I fall, but of course I get up and try it once again. From skating I learned that with hard work, self-discipline, perseverance, and dedication I could do anything. More importantly, I learned to believe in myself, and my ability to be successful at anything I put my mind to.
I'm working on the Common Application essay #1:
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilema you have faced and its impact on you.
and would appreciate any input.
Thanks
Here I go again, preparing to hurl my body though the air. During the approach I hear nothing but blood pumping through my veins; there is a faint ache in my legs; I push through the discomfort, step forward, and breathe deep. Hold the edge and jump; feet tight, arms in, body still, foot down, and pull out strong. Success! I worked two years for this fleeting moment of accomplishment - seven seconds from start to finish - landing a double axel. Predawn practices before school, more practices after school, late night show practices, and competitions across the eastern seaboard. Everyday I spend hours in the cold, no matter how I feel, practicing, perfecting, and performing my passion. I've calculated that over twenty five hundred hours (one hundred fifty thousand minutes or nine million seconds) of my life have been spent on the ice, during which skating has provided me with many opportunities to learn life's lessons as I glide across the ice.
It seems inevitable that jumping from a slippery surface, revolving numerous times in the air, and landing single footed on a blade just 1/4" wide will entail more spills than successes. I've sprained ankles, been black and blue all over, and gone to the hospital with a concussion from landing on my head, rather than my feet. Sure the worry that I can hurt myself is always in the back of my mind, and I might balk at an attempt of a jump every once in a while, but this sport has taught me that whether my fear is as small as peanut , or as large as failure when I'm trying my hardest, I can greet these situations with confidence and self-assurance, chase them down, and get over it.
All the hours spent training ultimately led to competitions, and from my first experience, I was hooked. The beautiful dress, the opportunity to perform a routine that I had spent months refining, and the thrill of winning a medal was an allure that a five year old couldn't resist. Competing became the reason to train and winning seemed to come easily for the first few years. (Daunting music swells) Then came Hillsborough, NC. Sure, I had occasionally fallen during a competition program. However, that day I fell three times during a two and a half minute program, which felt like it lasted two and a half hours. I was mortified. I found inner strength that I didn't think I possessed. I kept getting up, smiling at the judges, and continuing to skate until I reached the end of the program. From that experience I learned that there are two concurrent competitions; one against the other skaters, and the other against myself; I couldn't truly be beaten unless I allowed myself to give up. At that instant I understood how important it was to keep my composure even when things weren't going my way and that when you've been knocked down, you don't stay down. You push yourself to complete your goal, have pride in the job you've done and refuse to allow a low score to batter your confidence.
"Are you going to the Olympics?" is the question I am frequently asked by friends and family since I began to skate. Of course that was my dream as a little girl, but I recognized that I would never quite make it to the top. That epiphany is enough to cause many skaters to quit, but skating has become about more than winning to me. The combination of athletic skill and grace in creating the lines of a flawless spiral, the melding of mind and body to execute a perfect step sequence, and the thrill of landing a new double or triple jump, are what compel me to skate everyday. This winter I will take the Senior Freestyle skating test, the highest level assessment administered by the United States Figure Skating Association. When I pass this test I will be a "double gold" skater and qualified to step on the ice with Olympians like Michelle Kwan and Shizuka Arakawa. I may not be able to out-skate them, but I will be ready to skate with them.
So, here I go again: step forward, breathe deep, hold the edge and jump; feet tight, arms in, body still, foot down, and pull out strong. Sometimes no matter how perfect the jump is in the air, I fall, but of course I get up and try it once again. From skating I learned that with hard work, self-discipline, perseverance, and dedication I could do anything. More importantly, I learned to believe in myself, and my ability to be successful at anything I put my mind to.
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