It was 6:00 am on a frigid Saturday morning in the wintertime when the piercing sound of my mother’s screaming voice awoke me; she came barging into my room commanding at the top of her lungs for me to wake up and put on “running” clothes. I was twelve years old at the time and while I thought about leaving the comfort of my room to greet the bleak outdoors, I couldn’t help but feel a grimace on my face. By 6:30am, my mother realized that I had not made any attempt to climb out of my thick San Marcos covija so she dragged me out of bed herself. Once I was fully awake, I had no choice but to change into some loose joggers and an oversized sweater to leave the house with her by 7:00am. I began to cry after hearing that we were going to meet …show more content…
After spending hours researching tips and watching videos on proper running form, I felt confident to step out onto the Lakefront Trail for a second attempt. This time, I made a conscious effort to match my breaths with the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. I was able to run a little farther, and the discomfort wasn’t as extreme as the first time I ran. I continued to practice this technique of thinking consciously about my breathing and pace until it became a habit. When I was able to allow my body to run without thinking, my mind began to wander about other …show more content…
Everything around me was unchanged, but I felt as if I was lifted from my feet and flying above everyone else. The wind guided me as I made my way down the Lakefront Trail, steering me in new directions and helping me discover the simple details I would normally miss while not paying attention. While I was flying, I noticed the way the sky looked in the late afternoon on a brisk fall day, I payed attention to the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind and the chirps of birds in their nests. I noticed the powerful thump my shoes made as they crashed onto the solid pavement with every step and the sound of the waves crashing on the borders of the Lakefront
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
It was similar to the suburban street I grew up on, but in lieu of cookie-cutter houses with stale Bermuda grass, there stood wood cabins with yards covered in snow. The reddish-orange light emanating from the towering street lights pierced through a white fog and gently illuminated the area. Exiting the car, I was overwhelmed with a flurry of new sensations. The gently falling snow absorbed all of the sounds I was used to hearing in a residential area.The low hum of passing cars, birds singing from the trees, and the sound of blowing wind appeared to be muffled, even silenced, by the steady falling snow. I felt enveloped in a cool, but somehow familiar blanket. The smell of burning wood was coming from every direction, as each house I looked at had a thin, grayish plume rising gently from the chimney. The plumes represented the warmth and comfort of the many people I imagined to be nestled by the fire. Looking down the street, I noticed how freshly plowed it was. A thin layer of snow and ice-- like icing on a cupcake, or the glass top on my parent’s nightstand-- covered the street. But on the side of the street sat a pile of snow that could have swallowed me alive. Feeling taunted, I stood there and weighed my options. Chest deep mounds of frozen crystals begged me to dive in and lose myself. Preparing to succumb to the temptations before me, I was momentarily hindered by the fear of my parent’s wrath. But had that ever stopped me
As the plane slowly descended to a lower altitude, I took off my seatbelt quickly, eager to see the extent of the view. I stood up excitedly to see the whole scenery. When it landed, I eagerly grabbed the items and went out of the plane. The smell of air was different here. It was cold mountain fresh air. Before all I’m familiar with is air pollution. That day, I knew it was a lot different here.
Boom. Breath. Boom. Breath. Each step sounded like a war drum banging in my ears. The harmonious rhythm of my steps consistent with my breath continued on and on as I made my way up the side of the cliff in the middle of these Colorado woods. The sweltering heat was hindering my vision, and I began to feel dizzy. The worst part is, I am all alone.
It was an eerie feeling, almost of being watched. I felt vulnerable to the world around me, although small, the island felt enormous. The sun had fallen, and the mountain was black with a cloud of darkness over it. Air penetrated my lungs as I gasped at the sight of an adult for the first time in what seemed like forever,
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
The second day after a campfire and good night sleep I started to get more comfortable. I had gone on one blue but I still wasn’t ready for a harder one.“I’m still not ready”, I said. “That's okay you will get there.” My mom had said. Every day we got up early to get out early. I had fallen over 200 times. I was frustrated by the freezing cold snow and the snow blowers making it unable to see through my goggles. At least the snow was slushy from the sun. I felt ready to
As you glide down the long straights and curvy narrows, you can’t help but notice how the shades of blue seep across the sky like a spilled bottle of ink. How the trees and plants are sewn together effortlessly, their branches and leafs winding seamlessly like a great green sea. How the great mountains are poised over you reaching towards the sky, white fluffy cloud’s draped upon them, humbling all around them. Being able to see so far on the horizon that you can even see where the rolling waves of the water collides with the ever stretching stars and sky. This euphoric realization is where the line between the scenery becoming part of the rider and the rider becoming part of the scenery, which causes an overwhelming sense of
The constant stress that my world revolves around, is blinding. When I mark something off the list, something else appears. And it's this never ending cycle that is so hard to escape, that never allows me to think about anything other than what I need to do. It's the stress from the days that happened and the days to come that causes that spot under my eyes to turn puffy and black as if someone had punched both my eyes. It's the throbbing I feel in my head as if my brain was trying to find its way out to tell me to relax.
I walked along the green, freshly cut grass which had smelled like it was mowed minutes before. Darkness engulfed me which prompted me to use my phone as a flashlight to make sure that my path was clear so I wouldn’t fall and break my fragile bones; would be hysterical to my friend who came with me but it would be horrible for me. After the walk, I and my friend Nadia lay down on the grass and what I saw changed my life forever. The cathartic experience had brought tears into my eyes. I never saw anything which was closely comparable to the clear sky.
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
I’ve finally made it. When you first land here the immediate difference is all around you whizzing around you creating a sense of life. It 's a sense that you rarely have in a small town it 's bigger I can’t quite obtain a hold of it. It moves fast all through the night and during the day. It peaks in all of my senses to create a brand new sense of the life of the city.
Everyone 's goal in life is to make sure they live a meaningful life, it 's what makes people motivated and how they rate themselves. We all run into this quandary which has challenged philosophers, scientists, and a numerous amount of other people. ‘How do we live a full and meaningful life?’ No one has entirely figured out how to live a meaningful life, but there are several key points researchers have found that help people find their meaning and satisfaction in life. We need to know what 's important to us, pursue our passion, discover our life 's purpose, spend more on people than things, express ourselves and have courage, prioritize human connection with others, and know meaning and happiness
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.
Everyone has a memorable unforgettable moment in their life time and will charish that momement as long as they live. I am one of those many with a memorable loving moment. I will never forget it and happy to share it with others. It has been one of many favorite moment in my life. That it even open my heart to be happy and always thankful.