Life needs to be a challenge, there is no limit to youth
When I knew that the ninth grade participated in the Peiyu class students to test sports, my heart was broken ....
When I knew that the ninth grade participated in the Peiyu class students to test sports, my heart was broken ......
I know my level of physical education - except for long-distance running is barely okay, standing long jump and the solid ball can be described as disastrous!
It's really hard to make time go faster in class than it does in normal times; however, when it comes to tests, time runs fast, probably because I can't wait to see the heroic performance of academics.
As soon as the bell rang after the second period this afternoon, everyone ran to the playground to stand in line. The warm-up activities of the schoolboys were also different, such as the high leg lift, which was crazy ......
I didn't know I was in the waiting area, but I was ashamed of myself when I saw the outstanding performance of the schoolboys. When I saw the boys in my class running the 1000 meters with great effort, I couldn't help but go up and cheer for them.
Of course, when I ran the 800 meters, they did not hesitate to shout "cheer" for me. On the first lap, following the first girl I said no pressure ah! By the second lap, I was already breathing heavily, but the girl in front of me was not slowing down at all. "If she can do it, I can do it too!" According to this belief, I ran the third lap. During the period of two smaller girls from the side around me into the second - third, but they ran in front of my speed slowed down, I wanted to go around them, to save energy to the fourth. Finally, I found a good time to fight my way around the side and leap into second. I then ran the fourth lap behind the first place without worry. Suddenly, I heard the faint sound of panting in my ears, "This 'girl' is really ......", and I secretly felt contempt for the "girl" who was ready to overtake me. The "girl" is full of contempt, about to see its face, my class a boy Xiaomiao students will break into my line of sight inside the contempt suddenly dissipated. He tried his best to adjust his breathing and pace, I wanted to "cheer" for him, thinking of their physical strength will be speechless down ......
The sound of cheering from the old class and several students came to my ears, and I suddenly had the strength to carry some speed. At this time, I do not have a half-hearted desire to compete for the first, just want to run as hard as possible to finish.
Once again, my physical strength was not enough, and a sharp gasp sounded in my ears, and my girl's intuition told me that it was a girl. Sure enough, in the last 30-40 meters, a girl in my brother's class, Xiao Wang, tried her best to overtake me and sprinted toward the finish line. I was suddenly filled with a sense of competition, who let the old class has usually been in my ears that she is good at sports? I ran hard and furiously, not aiming to be first, but just to surpass the sportsman that my class had been talking about.
As expected, there is nothing I can't get that I want. The moment I crossed the finish line, I heard the PE teacher announce my jersey number before hers. My desire to win was overwhelming!
I would also like to thank Xiao Wang, if not for her, I would not have been able to stimulate my strong potential. It was clear to me that I had surpassed her and surpassed this challenge.
After the run, I didn't sit on the playground to rest, but first went to see my result with great expectation: 3 minutes and 23 seconds, exactly 17 seconds faster than my best time ever. At that moment, I realized that I had surpassed myself and also surpassed my limits!
About the Creator
Celia R Mueller
Read a million books, travel a million miles
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Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins6 days ago in Fiction
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