option #1: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Expected Greatness Receives not so Great Scores
You're sitting in my room, bored, with nothing to do. So you grab the remote and start flipping through the channels but there's absolutely nothing to watch. What do you do next? You press the DVR button to see what recordings I have. But, as you scroll down the list, you see nothing but gymnastics recordings, some even from a year ago. What does this tell you about me?
Some people are TV junkies and others are clothes junkies, but I am a gymnastics junkie. For me, gymnastics is life. Literally. It has been a part of me even before I was born. My mom competed in high school gymnastics and passed what she calls the "gym genes" to me and my sister. She even has photos and recording of us trying to do flips off the couch and swinging on tree branches as if they were bars. Everyone who knows me knows that I have a passion for gymnastics. So no one was surprised when I decided to do my college essay on gymnastics.
Last May I was given what is perhaps the greatest challenge for any gymnast at my level: Level 9 Eastern National Championships. Each year, gymnasts and coaches work day in and day out in hopes of making it to nationals. Gymnasts practice for approximately 15 hours a week; working on the same routines, on the same four apparatuses, repeating the same skills over and over again. To give a clearer picture, by the end of one season a gymnast would have performed one skill 2000 times. That is what I had to do to make it to nationals. Making nationals can as selective and as difficult as making the Olympic team: first you must qualify to states, then to regionals. At regionals you must not only place in the top six but you must have a score of at least 34. Somewhere between 10 and 50 girls from six different states compete against one another for those spot. So if you make it, you're expected to do great.
Like every gymnast, the road to nationals is long and grueling. By the time nationals came around I had already done my routine over a hundred times and my body was aching and tired. But that wasn't going to stop me. Coming off my win in regionals, I was poised to do extremely well in nationals especially because I was improving and becoming more consistent.
Nationals was the weekend of many firsts for me. It was the first time I was ever separated from my sister, the first time I took a plane, and the first time I was alone. Going to nationals I had conquered two of my biggest fears: going on an airplane and being alone. Because my parents had to work, they couldn't drive up to West Virginia to see me, and they couldn't afford to send my sister with me. Although I was a little disappointed, I was happy that I was even given the opportunity to go.
The journey was scary and exciting. When I arrived to the arena, I felt like I was in the Olympics. I felt so many emotions running through my mind all at once: I was excited, anxious, nervous, and sad. While I was warming up I felt like everyone was watching me and, surprisingly, I embraced the attention instead of shying away from it like I would have normally done. I was especially happy to start on floor since it was my best event. After three girls competed, it was finally my turn to make my debut. I stood in the corner, waiting for the judge to solute me to start. I recognized that the majority of the crowd had their attention on to floor probably because it is the most exciting to watch. So after the judge soluted, I proceed toward the floor. After a step of two, I notice that I'm falling: I just tripped over the tape holding the floor together. What a way to start off my competition! I laughed a little and so did everyone else. When the stadium quieted down a bit I was ready to start.
I did not do so well on floor. I fell on my first pass but managed to keep going and finish my routine strong. In fact, I feel on every apparatus, except vault, with each one seeming to be more and more uncharacteristic. In all I had a rough meet and placed almost last on every event except vault, which I placed second on.
Although I didn't get the results I had hoped I was still happy. Although I was not physically ready to handle such pressure, I was able to remain calm and collected throughout the meet, which was a big step for me. Nationals helped to find a confidence in myself I never knew I had. Up until my face plant and disastrous fall on floor, I was extremely confident in my abilities and knew I had a possible chance of winning. I had never felt that way before a competition. Even after the meet I kept telling my coach that I was a winner not only because I had placed second on vault but because I knew that if I hadn't fall I would have won. In way I am glad that I didn't win because it showed me that I didn't have to be perfect all the time. My coaches and my family were proud of me for just going to nationals and were happy that I didn't cry because I didn't do the best. I was also proud of myself because I had done my best and I didn't give up even though I knew I wasn't going to do well. But the most important lesson I've learned is that I can do things on my own. I can be independent of my sister and experience things on my own, including college.
Expected Greatness Receives not so Great Scores
You're sitting in my room, bored, with nothing to do. So you grab the remote and start flipping through the channels but there's absolutely nothing to watch. What do you do next? You press the DVR button to see what recordings I have. But, as you scroll down the list, you see nothing but gymnastics recordings, some even from a year ago. What does this tell you about me?
Some people are TV junkies and others are clothes junkies, but I am a gymnastics junkie. For me, gymnastics is life. Literally. It has been a part of me even before I was born. My mom competed in high school gymnastics and passed what she calls the "gym genes" to me and my sister. She even has photos and recording of us trying to do flips off the couch and swinging on tree branches as if they were bars. Everyone who knows me knows that I have a passion for gymnastics. So no one was surprised when I decided to do my college essay on gymnastics.
Last May I was given what is perhaps the greatest challenge for any gymnast at my level: Level 9 Eastern National Championships. Each year, gymnasts and coaches work day in and day out in hopes of making it to nationals. Gymnasts practice for approximately 15 hours a week; working on the same routines, on the same four apparatuses, repeating the same skills over and over again. To give a clearer picture, by the end of one season a gymnast would have performed one skill 2000 times. That is what I had to do to make it to nationals. Making nationals can as selective and as difficult as making the Olympic team: first you must qualify to states, then to regionals. At regionals you must not only place in the top six but you must have a score of at least 34. Somewhere between 10 and 50 girls from six different states compete against one another for those spot. So if you make it, you're expected to do great.
Like every gymnast, the road to nationals is long and grueling. By the time nationals came around I had already done my routine over a hundred times and my body was aching and tired. But that wasn't going to stop me. Coming off my win in regionals, I was poised to do extremely well in nationals especially because I was improving and becoming more consistent.
Nationals was the weekend of many firsts for me. It was the first time I was ever separated from my sister, the first time I took a plane, and the first time I was alone. Going to nationals I had conquered two of my biggest fears: going on an airplane and being alone. Because my parents had to work, they couldn't drive up to West Virginia to see me, and they couldn't afford to send my sister with me. Although I was a little disappointed, I was happy that I was even given the opportunity to go.
The journey was scary and exciting. When I arrived to the arena, I felt like I was in the Olympics. I felt so many emotions running through my mind all at once: I was excited, anxious, nervous, and sad. While I was warming up I felt like everyone was watching me and, surprisingly, I embraced the attention instead of shying away from it like I would have normally done. I was especially happy to start on floor since it was my best event. After three girls competed, it was finally my turn to make my debut. I stood in the corner, waiting for the judge to solute me to start. I recognized that the majority of the crowd had their attention on to floor probably because it is the most exciting to watch. So after the judge soluted, I proceed toward the floor. After a step of two, I notice that I'm falling: I just tripped over the tape holding the floor together. What a way to start off my competition! I laughed a little and so did everyone else. When the stadium quieted down a bit I was ready to start.
I did not do so well on floor. I fell on my first pass but managed to keep going and finish my routine strong. In fact, I feel on every apparatus, except vault, with each one seeming to be more and more uncharacteristic. In all I had a rough meet and placed almost last on every event except vault, which I placed second on.
Although I didn't get the results I had hoped I was still happy. Although I was not physically ready to handle such pressure, I was able to remain calm and collected throughout the meet, which was a big step for me. Nationals helped to find a confidence in myself I never knew I had. Up until my face plant and disastrous fall on floor, I was extremely confident in my abilities and knew I had a possible chance of winning. I had never felt that way before a competition. Even after the meet I kept telling my coach that I was a winner not only because I had placed second on vault but because I knew that if I hadn't fall I would have won. In way I am glad that I didn't win because it showed me that I didn't have to be perfect all the time. My coaches and my family were proud of me for just going to nationals and were happy that I didn't cry because I didn't do the best. I was also proud of myself because I had done my best and I didn't give up even though I knew I wasn't going to do well. But the most important lesson I've learned is that I can do things on my own. I can be independent of my sister and experience things on my own, including college.