Narrative Essay About Speeding

Of the more than twenty million Americans who are running today, most who start do so for the wrong reasons, with the wrong attitude, and tend to lose interest after a few weeks or months. Many quit. This is usually because they become concerned with superficial goals such as time and distance and never discover the more profound mental benefits that running offers. (Lilliefors 15)

Each step was more difficult than the last, my breathing became a fast-paced panting, my legs reluctant maintain my long stride. Doubts settled themselves in my mind, reminding me that I had never run long distance before, taunting me as I willed my legs to keep going. I had set out to own my run, but now I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring the rest of my last mile and a half.

Cresting the hill, I struggled with my ragged breathing and the pain in my hips. I focused on my rhythm I in order to keep going. My running shoes slapped the pavement as onlookers expressed their encouragement with cowbells and cheers. I wondered again why I put myself into the situation by choice. As I passed mile 13 I remembered. I felt my eyes water and my legs shake as the finish line approached. Marines in uniform stood ready with medals and smiles as they encouraged us in our own hardships to rise above the pain and finish. The announcer spoke my name but I hardly heard him as a medal slipped over my head and I marveled at the weight, not of the medal, but the accomplishment which seemed impossible for the past three hours. I finished in 3 hours, 7 minutes. It was not an Olympic record and I detested running at mile two, but I did it.

I ran as fast as I could, I was tired but knew that I had to keep going. The sun shone down ferociously making it very bright and torrid. I felt sweat drip from just above my brow into my right eye. My eye began to get a burning sensation just as I turned the corner. My muscles ached, but I knew I had to shift into overdrive and pick up the pace. I started to run faster and faster. I began to get the feeling like I was about to throw up, but knew that I couldn’t stop now. I continued to sprint to the finish, and just as I crossed the finish line I looked to the clock and noticed that I set a new PR. The feeling of happiness that swelled up inside me took me back to the practice on the tuesday of the previous week: That day it was hot as fire

When I look down, all I observe is the color red on a rugged surface. Thin white lines separate me from my competition. I glance to my left. I glance to my right. I notice the various colored shirts alongside me. They all crave the finish line. I grasp the famous red and blue baton in my hands. No one knows my name or my story, the only article they identify is the number pinned on my Mahwah Jersey. We all restlessly stand in position while hundreds of people fill the stadium. The gun is raised, I look up to the sky and pray for wings on my feet, which is the same wish I have for every race. The gunshot sounds through the air and in a blink of an eye it’s over. It's not when you finish or what towns you beat, it's about, the experience you share with those three other girls waiting on you and the baton.

Many activities I participate in require serious commitment. Most notably, I am the captain of the Cross Country team and on the varsity Track team here at Brookfield East. To be at peak performance, I must train every day. Although running is difficult, it is how I “seize the day.” To get to where I am now, it took countless hours and substantial dedication. Now I am at the end of the road, all the time I put into acheiving my goal was not in vain. I have become faster than I ever was before and have lead my teamates to do the same as we pushed each other and met with success. The demands of race also require a straightforward mindset focused on competing. The difficulties that were tolerated during the training and race are turned

Barley in I could hear the pummel of feet, the clicking of spikes striking rocks, heavy breathing, and the crowd encouraging me. I was working ardous to think clearly and not let the sweat dripping off me and heat disturb me. I couldn't smell anything because i was breathing heavily. After the race a man gave me water and i was to drained to raise it. But i did and it chilled my throat with satisfaction. I sprinted to inspirit my teammates when their heat begin and it felt excruciating to hoist my legs. I knew Jonah and Noah would be rounding the corner soon and heading to there shoot. I strained my throat to shout as Jonah come in second place. Soon after Noah did not show after that. I started to panic because I know he should have finished by now. As each person passed I felt my heart squeeze tight and become rigid. hearing my teammates beside me questioning each other and stating things that may have occurred. I swung around and darted toward the other direction of Finish. After talking to a friend and a couple acquaintances. I heard someone had collapsed from heat exhaustion. I started to lose it and could feel my eyes filling with water. When I saw my teammates jogging to a

It was the afternoon of the Tri-County League Championship, or, as Coach Harkins called it, TCLs. Despite the usual mixture of sweat, puke, and sulfur in the air of Reggie Lewis Track and Athletic Center, there was an air of exhilaration. Everyone was excited because we got to leave school at 12:45 and we had practiced all week on the new track for this. My event, the 55 meter dash, was one of the first events. As I was warming up with the other sprinter on my team, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. That day was my last chance to qualify for states, and I needed to shave almost a tenth of a second off of my time.

On Tuesday, 10/18/2016, at 1312 hours, I, Deputy Stacy Stark #1815 initiated a traffic stop at the intersection of Highway 13 and Country Club Rd. Murphysboro, Jackson County, Illinois after a LEADS inquiry, upon the license plate of a gold 2002 Buick 4 door bearing Illinois registration Z907828, indicated the registered owner had a suspended drivers license. The registered owner of the vehicle was listed as Brenda D. Dozier (Female, DOB: 09/03/1958). The vehicle was traveling at a speed several MPH below the posted speed limit. The gold Buick and I were traveling west on Highway 13 from Carbondale, Illinois. I passed the gold Buick on Highway 13 in an attempt to observe the driver to be a female. I was unable to see the driver due to the tinted windows. I proceeded to pull ahead and I pulled over at the intersection of Highway 13 and Airport Rd. I then waited for the gold Buick to drive by. I could see through the front windshield of the gold Buick. I viewed the driver to be a female and there was a male passenger.

One evening on a sunny day, there was a young man and woman traveling on I-55 South. They were smoking something and acting strange as well. The young man was speeding because he was trying to hurry home to sell his drugs. As he was speeding, the young lady gave him a sign that there was a police car on the side of the highway, but it was too late. The young man finally stopped and the police asked for his registration and driver’s license and the young man handed them to the officer. As the officer walked towards the vehicle he could smell marijuana. The two young adults tried to hide the drugs but it was too late, the officer caught them hiding them. The officer asked them to step out of the vehicle, and put their hands up on the car. As

My feet pounded on the uneven ground, each step increasingly difficult. My breath was loud, uneven to my ears. I could see the girl in front of me, her brightly colored uniform becoming smaller as she pulled ahead. It was now or never; if I did not surge now, there was no chance of making it. I took a deep breath and increased my pace, running harder than I ever had before. But it wasn’t enough. I crossed the finish line, grabbing a tree as I struggled to stand, and look at the timer. With a time of 21:42 for the girls varsity 5k race, I knew I had missed my goal, and my season was over.

One August morning many few years ago, I was walking the halls of Washington elementary excited to be in fourth grade. Because that meant I could do the fun run fundraiser, where you run for thirty minutes around a track. The only main thing that stood in my way was the upper class the fifth grade. Although the record was twenty-six laps around the track, that didn 't scare me to go after that record. It’s basically the one thing I have waited for since I was in first grade. It’s what made school fun for me. I wasn’t really smart at school because I never try. The only thing I love to do was to play sports all through elementary as well middle school. I grew up in a house with strong morals to do my best in school. But that didn 't matter to me. Running for me was to escape the world that meant to me that nothing matter. No one can say anything to you or yell at you. when you 're failing classes or why haven 't you done your homework. That 's how I fell in love with running.

Near the end of August, I tuned in to watch the last event of the Summer Olympics: the marathon. The mere strength and endurance required for this final event left me with nothing but respect and awe for the competing athletes. As a runner myself, I knew that distance running was not only a physical challenge, but a mental challenge as well. What were they thinking as they ran? What kept them from giving up and stopping? All of the runners certainly had the perseverance to be considered gritty as Angela Duckworth, author of Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance, might point out, but the reason behind their persistence is something of a mystery. Or so it seems. While Duckworth proclaims that optimistic people tend to persevere more, she

Every step strained my burning muscles. I gasped for air as I sprinted down to the finish line. Sweat dripped down my face in the ninety degree heat. My eyes fixated on the runner in front of me. I leaped in front of her just as we passed the finish line, but all I could think of at that moment was, “Why am I doing this?”

Low and fast no one can see me because I am speeding down my street. But I don't want to go to fast because I make rainbow streaks in front of my house. Then my magical bike shoots out pepper spray to blind bad guys from seeing. Also my magical bike has a balloon thrower that is filled with slime and explodes when it hits an object. My alarm goes off. There is only one thing that can mean, the banks in my city have been robbed.