Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard to start a club…
I have never told anyone this story as it has nothing glorious to brag of.
There is always this kind of person in every class: they stand stiff on the field until stricken down by an unexpected soccer ball; they surf the volleyball out of the court, withstanding silent but immense embarrassment; they swing the bat, but, of course, never touch the ball.
I was one of them.
Although sometimes I envied those monkey-nimble classmates who leaped high and swung their arm and blocked a shot and won everyone’s applause, I never minded being an unsporty person — not until my school callously announced that “You are transferred to fitness club since you failed the fitness test.”
Two months earlier, with lofty goals, I started my own club, a magazine club, but now I was “transferred to the fitness club”? I gazed at the computer screen, trying to understand the brutal words that slammed the door on my dream. My dream — starting up a club that publishes magazines — seemed to fall apart after I eventually found some friends who shared the same aspiration and a teacher who promised to help. How could I leave irresponsibly and transfer to the “fitness club,” having convinced them that publishing magazines was more than a fantasy?
I could not sit and watch my dream be ripped out of my grasp. With my palms sweating, I dialed the Department of Student Affairs. The coordinator responded, “You have to redo the fitness test and pass all four criteria, including 1600 meters running, stretching, long jump, and one-minute sit-ups.” I hung up the phone, looking aimlessly at the pale wall, at these seemingly unattainable goals. My running, for example, took 10 minutes, whereas the passing standard was a desperate 7 minutes. I moaned to myself. I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter…
Wait… Is this really “the end”? Am I going to allow someone to put a “THE END,” like the end of a film, on my dream? I suddenly realized the unlikely but invaluable opportunity in my hands. The situation left me no time to mourn, and I had to take hold of it. I grabbed a blank paper and planned my training schedule. For nights, I ran with neighbors on the field of the community center, staring at white lines and red track, inhaling, and exhaling. On weekends, I plunged into the swimming pool, staring down at light and dark blue tiles, inhaling, and exhaling.
This is an overcoming story. Indeed, I passed all four criteria, and the Department of Student Affairs transferred me back to the magazine club a day before the first club session. The boy yearned for it and earned it. This seemed to be “THE END.”
Yet there was something more than just passing the test and restoring the once-shattered dream. Days after the training schedule was crumpled up and cast into the trash bin, I found exercising inalienable. The invigorating rhythm of running circulated in my blood vessels and became an inextricable presence as I sunk into the sofa and tore open a new pack of Doritos. The refreshing chill of the swimming pool ambushed me when I positioned myself comfortably in front of a new episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.
So I returned to exercising. In PE class, my movements became less clumsy. Sometimes I won the audience’s (and my own) wonder when I made a swish, unexpectedly. After I stole the enemies’ ball and left them speechless, I bumped fists with teammates with a gratification that I had never felt. I could feel my muscles contracting and adrenaline rushing in my veins when I dashed behind the departing school bus. I would not say I transformed into an athletic person, but, certainly, something started to change. Something minor and yet meaningful.
This was my 2019-2020 common application essay, a respond to "The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?" All right reserved. Do not plagiarize.