I've been having a bit of trouble with this essay. All criticism is welcomed! I am going to turn this essay in as a topic of my choice. Let me know if my ideas are not well conveyed. Thanks in advanced.
____________________________________________________________ ____________________
Stars paint the black canvas sky as I slipped out of bed. I took a glimpse of the blurry 5:30am luminescent lines as I began the trudge to my car. Twenty minutes of soothing open highway, my body swayed back and forth through each graceful turn; nothing to keep myself awake except the diluted cool air streaming from the half opened window. Before I realized it, I was already inside the chilly (school's name) weight room surrounded by 12 other individuals from the track and field team, all equally tired, as we prepared for our routine morning workout. We patiently waited as our coach pondered our number and our muscles enjoyed its last few minutes of respite.
Today, the number would be eighteen. Eighteen sets of everything. My muscles, already aching from yesterday's workout, cringed and tightened as I barely pushed the leg press machine up. The goal we all had in mind was to increase our distances for the long and the triple jump. These intense morning workouts months before the actual season started were going to pay off, I kept reminding myself. Track and field was my sport; I was convinced the goal was worth it, and day after day sacrificing time that I could have been snoozing in my warm bed.
As I participate in the early morning workouts I often ponder the importance of what we are trying to achieve. In track and field, minute inches seem to make a world of difference between a win and a loss. Yet as I compare this goal to situations in my personal life, it does not seem to carry much weight. Several months ago my grandmother was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. This crippling disease slowly immobilized her from being a healthy, outgoing woman, to one confined to requiring help from those around her. Doctors were doubtful that she would be able to walk normally again. It would be a tragic story, but my grandmother had not lost hope. Despite the words of the doctor, my grandmother painstakingly persisted on her goal of walking, eventually able to walk a few liberating steps away from her wheel chair.
My grandmother's determination has given me the drive to push harder. Her attitude towards her immobilizing disease has taught me to pick myself up and keep striding along even at low points in our situations. Her outlook on life has given me insight to not view the unfortunates as brick walls, but as obstacles that can be conquered with a bit of hard work and determination. Although our goals may appear to be worlds of difference, she regaining the use of a basic ability, and me the additional inches I hope to gain with every workout, her strength and determination has inspired me to not give up.
In a way we are both pushing for the same small incremental ambition; to reach the goals we have set for ourselves. Even the act of just working hard when all seems downbeat can separate success from failure. I know that by following my goal, no matter how insignificant it may seem I will be able reach what I set out for, on and off the track.
____________________________________________________________ ____________________
Stars paint the black canvas sky as I slipped out of bed. I took a glimpse of the blurry 5:30am luminescent lines as I began the trudge to my car. Twenty minutes of soothing open highway, my body swayed back and forth through each graceful turn; nothing to keep myself awake except the diluted cool air streaming from the half opened window. Before I realized it, I was already inside the chilly (school's name) weight room surrounded by 12 other individuals from the track and field team, all equally tired, as we prepared for our routine morning workout. We patiently waited as our coach pondered our number and our muscles enjoyed its last few minutes of respite.
Today, the number would be eighteen. Eighteen sets of everything. My muscles, already aching from yesterday's workout, cringed and tightened as I barely pushed the leg press machine up. The goal we all had in mind was to increase our distances for the long and the triple jump. These intense morning workouts months before the actual season started were going to pay off, I kept reminding myself. Track and field was my sport; I was convinced the goal was worth it, and day after day sacrificing time that I could have been snoozing in my warm bed.
As I participate in the early morning workouts I often ponder the importance of what we are trying to achieve. In track and field, minute inches seem to make a world of difference between a win and a loss. Yet as I compare this goal to situations in my personal life, it does not seem to carry much weight. Several months ago my grandmother was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. This crippling disease slowly immobilized her from being a healthy, outgoing woman, to one confined to requiring help from those around her. Doctors were doubtful that she would be able to walk normally again. It would be a tragic story, but my grandmother had not lost hope. Despite the words of the doctor, my grandmother painstakingly persisted on her goal of walking, eventually able to walk a few liberating steps away from her wheel chair.
My grandmother's determination has given me the drive to push harder. Her attitude towards her immobilizing disease has taught me to pick myself up and keep striding along even at low points in our situations. Her outlook on life has given me insight to not view the unfortunates as brick walls, but as obstacles that can be conquered with a bit of hard work and determination. Although our goals may appear to be worlds of difference, she regaining the use of a basic ability, and me the additional inches I hope to gain with every workout, her strength and determination has inspired me to not give up.
In a way we are both pushing for the same small incremental ambition; to reach the goals we have set for ourselves. Even the act of just working hard when all seems downbeat can separate success from failure. I know that by following my goal, no matter how insignificant it may seem I will be able reach what I set out for, on and off the track.