Consider something in your life you think goes unnoticed and write about why it's important to you.
I have never been considered an athletic girl. While all my friends headed out to volleyball, basketball, and track practices I would find myself dedicating every moment I spent outside of school to music. In seventh grade I went out for my first season in cross country. Few people know I have ever worn a jersey and even fewer know how much that jersey impacted who I am today. It is an understatement to say that running "wasn't my thing." More times than not I felt like my legs were about to break, my lungs were on the verge of exploding, and my arms were about fifty pounds each. What I gained from those cold, wet four mile runs at eight in the morning was physical endurance, self-esteem, and the ability to mentally push through the toughest moments.
Despite my attempts to block out memories from the grueling first few practices of cross country, I remember them vividly. I was the worst runner on the team, and any friends I had in cross country suddenly became my competition. I remember waiting for my friend to tie her shoe so she could continue running alongside me. To my disbelief, she hopped up when she was done and sprinted with all her might to get far ahead of me. After realizing friendships ended when running shoes were tied, I decided to beat them at their own game. I competed against them, but to no avail. I consistently came in last or close to last for over half of the season. I cannot explain in words how dejected I felt constantly chasing after my team and how disheartening it was knowing the golf cart was just yards behind me at every meet. I was improving but not as quickly as everyone else. The first day I decided to be my own competition was the first day I felt accomplished. I no longer invested all my energy into getting ahead of someone else; my primary motivation for improving was to be better than I was the day before.
The journey from running a block and feeling winded to running four miles and feeling distinguished was a long one in every way possible. The elation that came with feeling strong and invincible with every stride made all the blood, sweat, and tears worth it. My ability to overcome the seemingly impossible is something I've taken with me long after my cross country years. I attribute my perseverance and dauntlessness to those practices that made me want to quit. These qualities I acquired in seventh grade are significant to me because they have aided me in becoming as successful as I am now. The same game face I wear today with a drum on is the same one I wore five years ago the moment I realized I could.
I have never been considered an athletic girl. While all my friends headed out to volleyball, basketball, and track practices I would find myself dedicating every moment I spent outside of school to music. In seventh grade I went out for my first season in cross country. Few people know I have ever worn a jersey and even fewer know how much that jersey impacted who I am today. It is an understatement to say that running "wasn't my thing." More times than not I felt like my legs were about to break, my lungs were on the verge of exploding, and my arms were about fifty pounds each. What I gained from those cold, wet four mile runs at eight in the morning was physical endurance, self-esteem, and the ability to mentally push through the toughest moments.
Despite my attempts to block out memories from the grueling first few practices of cross country, I remember them vividly. I was the worst runner on the team, and any friends I had in cross country suddenly became my competition. I remember waiting for my friend to tie her shoe so she could continue running alongside me. To my disbelief, she hopped up when she was done and sprinted with all her might to get far ahead of me. After realizing friendships ended when running shoes were tied, I decided to beat them at their own game. I competed against them, but to no avail. I consistently came in last or close to last for over half of the season. I cannot explain in words how dejected I felt constantly chasing after my team and how disheartening it was knowing the golf cart was just yards behind me at every meet. I was improving but not as quickly as everyone else. The first day I decided to be my own competition was the first day I felt accomplished. I no longer invested all my energy into getting ahead of someone else; my primary motivation for improving was to be better than I was the day before.
The journey from running a block and feeling winded to running four miles and feeling distinguished was a long one in every way possible. The elation that came with feeling strong and invincible with every stride made all the blood, sweat, and tears worth it. My ability to overcome the seemingly impossible is something I've taken with me long after my cross country years. I attribute my perseverance and dauntlessness to those practices that made me want to quit. These qualities I acquired in seventh grade are significant to me because they have aided me in becoming as successful as I am now. The same game face I wear today with a drum on is the same one I wore five years ago the moment I realized I could.