Schmall
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Papers seeking an AI am posting my paper here. It normally comes out to about 3 1/2 pages or so depending on the program. I hope you guys dont mind me posting it here for some criticisim. Good or bad comments wanted. Must be constructive though. If you find loads of misspelling and grammar problems and feel compelled to fix them, copy and past into a PM and make the corrections in red please so that I can see the corrections made. Thanks in advance.
~~EDIT~~
This could be a good thread for us to post papers not of ungodly lengths for each other to view. Peer reviews can be extremely useful. If the paper is too long to post (5+ pgs or so), post in a blog or something and link it. I could care less either way really. I just know we all want that A.
Two Thousandths of a Second
"Runners, to your marks!" hollers out the offical with the starter gun. I take a deep breath of the stale air, tasting the school bus exhaust fumes creeping in under the doors leading outside. I hop a couple of times to calm the last of the pre-race jitters and take my place. A quick shake of my limbs relieves me of the tension that has built op in my body. I am focused. I am set to go.
"Ready!"
We all snap into position. The cluttered noises around me dims down to a dull buzz. I keep my breathing steady and under control as I stare down the rubber track before me, waiting for the gun. My mind continues to zone out the irrelevant enviroment around me. Only the track, the hurdles, the runners on either side of me, and the gun exiests to me.
"BANG!"
*****
Indoor track and field is a sport spoken little of during winter sports season in high school. Mots people think of basketball and ice hockey diring such times. Even when they do think about it, they look down upon it as only people running around in circles. What they do not realize is that it's a sport that not only provides a contest of speed and endurance, but it also a contest of willpower and sheer stubborness at times. IT is a sport where I thrive on the adrenaline coursing through my veins, gritting my teeth as I push myself a little faster for a little longer, the feel of the air breezing through my hair, the pre-race jitters, and most of all, the exhilaration of the win. It is a sport that I love to compete in, especially the 60 yard hurdles.
*****
With an explosion of speed and determination, I shoot straight out of the blockes, leading the others to the first hurdle. Six strides and I am flowing over the hurdle with fluid grace born from hours of repeatitive practice over the past two years. A grace that lands me on the other side and still in the front of the others. Nothing matters outside of the next four strides and then flying over the next hurdle. Four strides and then a hurdle.
*****
I started running indoor track as training for soccer. I was lacking both speed and stamina for varsity. Figured I would get both from joining the track team. I was in for a surprise. I was hooked in my first meet. The competition was just as intense as any soccer game, the same rush of adrenaline, the same physical and mental contest of who can push themselves the furthest, and the same joy of a win. All this sucked me into the sport of track and field.
We practiced after school everyday outdoors in the cold. We ran in the feet numbing snow until the crust developed enough to threaten slicing open our legs. We then only switched to running on the icey sidewalks around town instead. The cold air served as a good motivation to keep running for it kept you warm. the only times we ran indoors was when the weather was too dangerous otherwise. Those were the worst practices. We ran up and down stairs doing different excerises and drilles. After one of those sessions you will discover leg muscles you never know you had.
Fortunately for me, indoor practices meant working the hurdles. I would spread out a couple of hurdles and sprint back and forth across the gym, workin on my technique and speed of getting over the hurdles. I would work myself up to a good sweat only to push myself even harder. Breaks where only taken to stretch in order to increase flexibilty and to combat cramps. I worked hard knowing the speed, endurance, and flexibility was key to success. Speed for being fast on my feet, endurance so that I never falter, and flexibilty to gracfully glide over the hurdles. It ony takes one toes to catch a hurdle to trip and stumble, thus effectively letting the guy behind me win instead.
*****
There is someone catching me. I can feel him on lane over to my left, just behind me. He is gaining. He is going to beat me. NO, I think to myself. I grt my teeth and length my stride. For the first time ever, I switch to three strides between the hurdles, allowing me to move even faster and maintainint my lead by half a stride. I just barely beat him to each hurdle in front of me. My blood is pounding in my ears. I feel my lungs bursting for air since I have forgotten to beath some time ago. I do not care. I must win. That is all in my mind. I must get to the finish line first. I Must. He is still gaining inch by inch on me.
The last hurdle. The last one. The one known for tripping up the most determined, skilled hurdlers who are weary from the last nine hurdles. My mind does not register this fleeting worry. It has tuned out all but the the guy now running shoudler to shoulder with me and that I must stay ahead of him at all costs. I must defeat him. I must get across the line first. The last hurdle does not matter. It is only an obstacle like any other. My body knows what to do and takes over. It dips into the a reserve few ever tap into. It puts a little more in the last hurdle. It bends my knees a little higher, head a little lower, lead leg snapping out in front a little faster, everything flowing perfectly, never missing a beat, and I am past the last hurdle. My mind only cares that he is still with me.
I am desperate. I must win. He will not beat me. Two more strides to reach the line. That three inch white line just in front of me. A line that I must cross first. A line drawing nearer and nearer. One stride closer. The guy is stil lwith me. We are exactly shoulder to shoulder. My mind and body pulls out the last of my reserves and pours everything into my last stride. The last stride that deteremines everything. A stride where I suddenly lean forward, throwing my chest and everything I have left forward. a move that gets me in front. A move that allows me to grab first place by two thousandths of a second.
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chippit
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What class is this for?
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