The mantra, "breathe in your nose and out your mouth," was the only thing running through my head as I attempted to complete the last half mile of my first cross-country meet, and at least it was running. I on the other hand, was not. I had started the race completely confident in my ability to run three miles, but after a grueling two and a half laps of tripping over tree roots, splashing through mud, and struggling over an enormous hill that marked the last quarter of the lap, I was just ready to go home and take a shower. When my feet crossed onto the threshold of the track where the finish line was positioned, I observed quite a few things. One, the conspicuous red timer was flashing numbers well into the mid-forties range. Two, at least half of the buses in the parking lot seemed long gone. My third and final realization did not occur to me until after I crossed the finish line. As I came to a stop near the water cooler, it finally dawned on me that I had concluded the race in last place.…
“To An Athlete Dying Young” is about a close friend who died at a young age. A.E Housman uses a poem structure to express his emotions. The whole poem is about how he was carried to his grave and was shoulder high. Based upon that this would be considered non - fiction. The audience he is telling this poem to is to his close friend that dies, and is wanting others to see his emotions. It depends on the perspective that you have. You can think that it means that they celebrated him and the accomplishments that he did, like he just won a race. You could also think of it as he died and now they are upset, but are still celebrating his life. For example, in line six it states how the road runners brought him him shoulder high. I thought that this…
My class and I took a few pictures before the race and we stretched a lot. A few minutes passed by and we had to get in our starting positions. So the race was about to start and there was hundreds of people around me and I was still a little nervous. The guy shot the gun up and I sprinted through many people. About half way through the first mile I slowed down and walked for a bit. Someone came up to me and said to at least jog. So I started jogging and I did that for about a mile and a half. Once it came to the second mile there was water cups, I grabbed two dumped one on my face and the other I drank. Since there was so many people I didn’t even know what place I was in or even how far I was. I was getting really tired but I hung in and sprinted the rest of the way. I could hear the crowd cheering so I ran like Forest Gump to get to the finish line. There was a timer when I crossed and it was about 35 minutes total and I finished.…
A.E. Housman was a poet born in 1859 who became very successful during his lifetime. “To an Athlete Dying Young” represents the theme of glory is fleeting by illustrating the point that if a successful athlete dies young, they will not have to worry about their glory of victory fading. They can rest in peace knowing they will be remembered at their athletic peak when they were successful and victorious. They will not have to go through the pain of watching their fame disappear or whither out with time. In this poetic masterpiece, Housman pulls together figurative language, sound devices, and structure to illustrate that glory is fleeting through a majestic poem that will be remembered for many years.…
As I ran that hill I began to cry because of the pain. I thought my legs were going to give out from underneath me. The pain I was feeling helped me take a few strides that caused me to stumble a little, but soon regained my composure. I was at the top. All that was left was one last final turn, and then the downhill. I could see the finish line in the distance and then started sprinting. Coach Rojas was screaming at me to keep going and not to stop. At this point, my heart was pounding rapidly. My body was worn down, hot and exhausted. Crossing the finish line was the only thing on my mind. For a moment, I blocked off from the race and thought about all the hard work that went into the season. I crossed the finish line and at that moment I knew that I had put my sweat and tears into this race. I couldn’t feel my legs, all I wanted was water. Soon after I heard that we won Second place in the district which was the best the team has won. I felt no pain at this point since I was part of a group of people who loved this sport and put effort into it. It gave me happiness to be part of a team that now was like my…
A.E. Housman’s emotional poem, “To an Athlete Dying Young,” appears to present a solemn farewell to any young athlete who dies young in the modern age. The speaker seems to be giving his last goodbye to the town athlete whether they are the star or the benchwarmer of the team it allows the reader to feel more attached to this character that the speaker is painting. Housman carefully crafts a depressing yet loving final goodbye to all the athletes or stars of the world that die young, and then shows briefly how life is after they’re gone.…
The bus ride to Muscle Shoals High School felt like hours and hours while only minutes had passed. My stomach flipped ferociously like a gymnast on the vault. My friends were trying to hype me up, but I could only focus on the fear and shaking of my body. I was too afraid to move, but too prideful to act as though I was as nervous as I was. As my legs carried me onto the huge field where vibrant reds and blacks were flaunted over the walls and seats, I observed the very place I would spill all my hardwork and dedication and I began to grow anxious. “Just breathe” I told myself over and over and over. I was so busy arguing with myself that I barely noticed the loudspeaker singing my name. I walked to the field and slowly crouched like a lioness hunting her prey. POW. The gun went off and everything became normal to me. Running had become like breathing or eating or sleeping. I no longer feared the idea of failure, but yet embraced the idea of succeeding. I bolted across the finish line with many seconds between me and my opponents. Not only did I win the war within myself, but I helped my team win the entire meet. Everyone can win their battles, you just have to have the will and determination to do…
Although “To an Athlete Dying Young” by A.E. Housman and “Ex-Basketball Player” by John Updike are both about the reflection of honorary greatness achieved in their lives as athletes, the speakers possess different views and attitudes towards their characters in each poem. In “To an Athlete Dying Young” the speaker shares a positive reflection of the characters accomplishments that takes place due to the death of that character dying at a young age: “To-day, the road all runners come, / Shoulder-high we bring you home, /And set you at your threshold down, /Townsman of a stiller town.” (“Athlete”5-8). In “Ex-Basketball Player” John Updike speaker reflects upon Flick Webb’s past…
I kept my eyes trained on my feet. Heat clouded my brain. I felt a strong pull over me to stop, to slow down or even take a short cut. More than anything, I wanted to wander into a ditch, curl up and pity myself. I thought about my goal- thirty minutes or under- which, to other girls on our team would be an easy feat. I thought about how proud I would be if I finished. The lactic acid in my thighs overcame me, and I began to walk. My feet dragged on the ground in protest, feeling like my grandmother's needlepoint. I cursed myself continuously. Girls who were behind me started to pass. The many ahead became specks of dust in my line of vision. A tsunami washed over me and gathered behind my eyes. The mysterious tidal wave overcame me as I sunk into the seabed, drowning in…
My last event was the 200 meter dash and as I got set in my blocks my heart pounded. I was beyond nervous but I knew I had a point to prove. The race started and as I was running the only thing on my mind was crossing the finish line with a new and improved personal record. As I finished, I was out of breath and everything seemed blurry but all I could hear was my coach screaming in excitement. I heard him yell at the top of his lungs, “PR, You did it! I knew you could do it!” The entire night I thought back on my past and could not believe I had just ran the best time I ever had in four…
Why can’t they get their head out of the cloud and start making the rinks loud?…
I was astounded that I was not dying right know but I felt like I just chugged two monster energy drinks. I flew Up the Hill and dashed across the straight away astounded by the amount of energy I had.. I got down the otherside of the hill and kept going I ran i kept running and bounded up a smaller hill I ran and saw it the final turn before the finish I kept going knowing that I was almost done I turned the corner and saw the finish I heard all the people saying go Paul you've got this so I kept going and I took that final step and crossed the finish line. As I crossed the finish line I saw the giant clock said 13 minutes and fifteen seconds not bad For running 1.62 mile I thought I would do a lot worse but I guess I should always believe in myself . As I walked over to a bench to the bench I realized that I felt really sick.…
In the short story “The Swimmer”, John Cheever wrote the story as a metaphor for life. Cheever basically stating that your time here on earth is short; don’t waste your time. Neddy spends his time chasing a social life, alcohol, and a mistress. As Neddy takes his journey across the county why does it take so long for him to realize that his life isn’t what he thought it was? Did he waste his time while on his journey?…
I get halfway to the other end of the pool. I start to feel my lower half start to droop in the water. I say happy words like “I can do it” or “almost there!” The words pump me up for only a short bit of time. But then the words get drowned out. I get to the wall and do my last flip turn. I push off the wall and start my strokes…
By the time we received our lane assignments and lined up, my body felt as though I already swam it. My nerves were getting the better of me, and I felt myself tense up. I remember telling myself to back out, run away, get out of this situation, but my legs only moved to step up onto the block. Shoving my goggles into place, I achieved a powerful suction. If I was going to swim this race, I needed to make sure my goggles stayed on; otherwise, I’m as good as sunk. They painfully wrenched on my eyes, so I knew that they were in place. Balancing on the small blocks was difficult. Clawing at my agitated stomach and pounding head, my anxiety was running at an all time high, and it felt like every screaming crowd member could tell. The starter of the race began the same words I have been hearing for my entire swim career, although they seemed different. These words stabbed me with so many thoughts and emotions and enveloped me into a state of…