'Don't panic. You can do this.' I said to myself as I brushed my blades. Sweat froze at the tip of my fingertips as I stepped onto the ice. My name was announced, and with butterflies practically throwing a party inside my stomach, I stopped in the center of the rink, bent my arms backward like a rocket just launched off the earth, and waited for the music. Flashes of thoughts raced through my head. What are you, an ordinary high school sophomore who can split her legs no wider than ninety degrees, doing here in a tight, velvet dress and makeup, about to begin a figure skating performance? Why of course, because you wanted to.
Just twelve months ago, I had started figure skating out of curiosity. "No slouching," my coach would say. "Skate like you have on Madonna's bra." At first, I was paranoid of getting cut by the sharp blades and being run over by the others skating in the rink. I clumsily stomped across the slippery floor, repeatedly tripping over and falling flat on my butt. But I did not give up; it is weird how the slightest hope of success propels me to keep going. After completing a single hop on the ice without slipping, I wanted to learn more. Like a baby reaching for things on tables and chairs after learning how to walk, I was fascinated with every new step I was taught. At a certain point, I noticed that the bigger and more confident my strides were, the less likely I was going to fall. I learned that professional figure skaters skate backwards; it enables them to freely move their legs to speed up. When I was finally good enough to practice skating backwards, I realized that it took a lot of courage to turn down the opportunity to clearly see what was ahead, choosing instead with passion to make the best out of the time and space given. The speed was exhilarating.
As I improved bit by bit, I soon found skating to be a very intriguing sport. Slashing across the ice with my back straight and strong gave me a sense of confidence I had never experienced before. Completing a spin and gliding out felt like I had transformed into a superhero ready to save the world. Figure skating was different from the other sports I had played previously; it was a form of art. I let my creative wings take flight, especially after I decided I wanted to perform in the annual showcase. Unlike tennis or track, I was the only one playing; I was competing with myself, not others. I was constantly challenging myself to jump higher and spin faster, but I was not discouraged or jealous if I failed the first few tries because I was sure of the fact that if I tried, I could always be stronger than myself.
The music started. I waltzed and skipped across my frozen stage, toepicks digging in the ice with each jump. I carefully executed months of practice in my footwork; but at the same time I felt the beat, spontaneously making a theatrical smile. I was not good, nowhere near perfect. But when I finished the three-minute long rollercoaster ride of a performance, the silence was devoured by applause. My vulnerability and insecurities were washed away, leaving only the overwhelming scent of the lessons I learned from this short yet long stay on the ice.
This is the personal essay for the commonapp! Feel free to just rip it apart and comment on it :D !!!
Just twelve months ago, I had started figure skating out of curiosity. "No slouching," my coach would say. "Skate like you have on Madonna's bra." At first, I was paranoid of getting cut by the sharp blades and being run over by the others skating in the rink. I clumsily stomped across the slippery floor, repeatedly tripping over and falling flat on my butt. But I did not give up; it is weird how the slightest hope of success propels me to keep going. After completing a single hop on the ice without slipping, I wanted to learn more. Like a baby reaching for things on tables and chairs after learning how to walk, I was fascinated with every new step I was taught. At a certain point, I noticed that the bigger and more confident my strides were, the less likely I was going to fall. I learned that professional figure skaters skate backwards; it enables them to freely move their legs to speed up. When I was finally good enough to practice skating backwards, I realized that it took a lot of courage to turn down the opportunity to clearly see what was ahead, choosing instead with passion to make the best out of the time and space given. The speed was exhilarating.
As I improved bit by bit, I soon found skating to be a very intriguing sport. Slashing across the ice with my back straight and strong gave me a sense of confidence I had never experienced before. Completing a spin and gliding out felt like I had transformed into a superhero ready to save the world. Figure skating was different from the other sports I had played previously; it was a form of art. I let my creative wings take flight, especially after I decided I wanted to perform in the annual showcase. Unlike tennis or track, I was the only one playing; I was competing with myself, not others. I was constantly challenging myself to jump higher and spin faster, but I was not discouraged or jealous if I failed the first few tries because I was sure of the fact that if I tried, I could always be stronger than myself.
The music started. I waltzed and skipped across my frozen stage, toepicks digging in the ice with each jump. I carefully executed months of practice in my footwork; but at the same time I felt the beat, spontaneously making a theatrical smile. I was not good, nowhere near perfect. But when I finished the three-minute long rollercoaster ride of a performance, the silence was devoured by applause. My vulnerability and insecurities were washed away, leaving only the overwhelming scent of the lessons I learned from this short yet long stay on the ice.
This is the personal essay for the commonapp! Feel free to just rip it apart and comment on it :D !!!