Tell
us a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates
your character or helped to shape it. Recommended length: 500-650 words
Blood,
sweat, and tears. My high school experience could be accurately summed up in
these three words. For every ounce of energy I have applied to my schoolwork, I
have poured an equal amount of effort into my athletic endeavors, and for the
first three years of my high school career, those athletic experiences revolved
around football. I would love to say that I am one of the determined ones, the
people that can unwaveringly stick with a decision made long ago, regardless of
how negatively it affects them, but I am not. Over this past summer, I learned
that one of the best decisions I ever made was simply letting something go.
The
summer before my Freshman year, I followed many of my friends and classmates
into making a commitment to the Freshman football team, all ready to start my
hopefully illustrious career as a wide receiver. Turns out, things didn’t
necessarily go as planned right from the get-go, considering I landed on the
defensive line and remained there for the next three years. Go figure. Over the
course of those three years, I spent countless hours on the field and in the
weight room, practicing, lifting, conditioning, just trying to improve myself
in any way possible. But, come my Junior year, something still seemed… lacking.
I would go out for practice every day with all the zeal I could feasibly
muster, but it all just felt meaningless. For me, every day was exactly the
same: get dressed, head out to the field, get yelled at, get hit, hit somebody,
more yelling, more colorful now, mostly directed at the offense by this point,
hit somebody again, but wait! I didn’t hit him hard enough that time, so I got
to bear crawl forty yards. And then it just repeated over and over again like a
broken record by your least favorite artist.
By
the spring of my Junior year, I knew what I had to do. I had to break the
cycle. Several of my friends, including a few that made that same commitment to
Freshman football that I did, all participated in this funny little sport
called cross-country. The very prospect of it baffled me; just running? Nobody across
a line from you to run into? What was this nonsense? After playing such a
high-contact sport for so long, this new challenge appeared fairly easy: start
running, and just keep running until you finish. So, as my Junior year came to
a conclusion, I thought to myself, “Eh, what’s the worst that can happen?” and
joined the cross-country team.
Looking
back on it now, I don’t know what exactly I was expecting, but whatever it was,
the reality was much, much more intense. I remember the first time I ran eight
miles in the scorching Florida sun, sweat cascading down my body, stinging my
eyes and making my clothes stick uncomfortably to my skin, legs screaming at
me, wanting desperately to simply shut down, anything to end the continuous
strain. But then there was always the finish, a sweet respite where you could
recover and relax. And at the finish line is where I found that missing piece
of the puzzle that caused me to quit football.
Family.
It didn’t really make much sense to me a few months ago, but recently it
finally clicked. The other people on the cross-country team aren’t simply
teammates, they’re brothers and sisters, willing to help each other through
whatever comes their way, on and off the course. That’s something I never
experienced on the football field, and eagerly welcomed into my own life as
soon as I could. Now knowing the importance of a strong connection with those I
work with, I feel I can use this to my advantage as I advance into college and
attempt to take on the world.
