essay about running sport

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Four men running on a track, dawn light visible on the horizon.

MIND, BODY, WONDER

Why the world's oldest sport is still one of the best exercises

Few physical activities can match the cardiovascular benefits of running. It’s also good for your muscles, bones, and mind—and can help you live longer.

When it comes to cardiovascular exercise, running is in a class of its own.

It's a sport that has endured millennia—the oldest and once only Olympic event was a sprint known as the stadion, but its practical benefits date back to prehistoric times.

"In order to hunt and survive, humans had to develop the ability to run millions of years ago, so it's engrained in who we are as a species," says Alyssa Olenick, an exercise physiologist at the University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus. "Over the centuries, it's grown into one of the most popular and accessible worldwide sports for both elite athletes and everyday people."

Today, some 50 million Americans regularly engage in the activity that appeals to both the old and young alike and is about as popular among women as it is among men.

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"Across all age groups, running helps to improve cardiovascular fitness and reduce overall mortality, to manage weight, to improve bone density and muscle strength and coordination, and to reduce stress and improve mental health," says Danielle Ponzio, an orthopedic surgeon at the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia and a co-author of running-related research .

For Hungry Minds

Though running isn't for everyone—people with certain medical conditions may need to pursue non-weight-bearing exercises such as swimming —it's a sport that benefits its participants as much today as it would have helped runners in ancient times.

Unparalleled cardiovascular and respiratory benefits

The most consistently studied benefit of running is improved heart health. It does this, in part, by making the heart "a stronger, more efficient pump," says Allison Zielinski, a cardiologist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and the co-director of the sports cardiology program at Northwestern Feinberg School of Medicine. A stronger cardiac muscle, she explains, improves one's cardiac output —a scientific measurement of how much blood the heart can pump in a minute, which healthcare providers use to gauge the strength and efficiency of a patient's cardiovascular system.

Zielinski adds that running also affects one’s autonomic nervous system—the body’s network responsible for regulating involuntary physiological processes such as digestion and respiration—by reducing one's resting heart rate. This is significant because studies show that every 10-beat-per-minute increase in one's resting heart rate is associated with a 16 percent increase in mortality risk.

Such improvements in cardiovascular performance are among the reasons the United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recognizes running as a "vigorous-intensity" activity—the health agency's highest measurement of aerobic exercise.

Running has also been shown to improve circulation, causing " favorable changes in your blood vessels, including increased capillary density and improved endothelial reactivity—something known as vasodilation," Zielinski explains.

Research shows that running improves lung capacity and performance as well. It accomplishes this, in part, by improving the maximum rate at which one can utilize oxygen—a measurement known as VO2max. This measurement reflects the maximal amount of oxygen-rich blood someone can pump out of their heart and deliver to their muscle to drive movement, says Olenick.

Living longer and better

This has a direct association with improved all-cause mortality as "even a small increase in VO2max can have meaningful improvements in long-term health," says Olenick. But it's only one of many markers of longevity associated with running.

One landmark 15-year study published in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology, for instance, found that running for even five to 10 minutes a day resulted in an average three-year life expectancy gain. Duck-Chul Lee, a co-author of the research and a professor of physical activity epidemiology at Iowa State University College of Human Sciences, says these benefits are accomplished, in part, because "running reduces the risk of many diseases and conditions including coronary heart disease and type 2 diabetes."

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A nother longitudinal study found runners had a 39 percent lower mortality rate and experienced less physical disability than non-runners. Running has also been associated with decreased LDL cholesterol levels and improved blood pressure .

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The activity is good for muscle growth and increasing bone density, which is especially important for older people. "As we age, we tend to lose muscle mass and bone density," says Ponzio, "and weight-bearing exercise like running is an effective way to counter these losses." Indeed, one study shows that long-distance running in particular increases biological markers of bone formation.

Because of these and related benefits, "running can reduce your risk of developing osteoporosis and arthritis," says Austin "Ozzie" Gontang, a clinical psychotherapist and the director of the San Diego Marathon Clinic in California.

Healthy weight management is another quality-of-life advantage associated with running. One reason for this is that running at even a moderate pace of five miles per hour (many runners run in excess of 12 mph) burns 590 calories per hour in a 154-pound person, which is as much or more than any other CDC-measured physical activity including swimming, weightlifting, bicycling, or playing basketball. "Running is a powerful tool for burning calories and is crucial for weight loss and maintenance," says Gontang.

In this regard, it's also helpful that running increases energy expenditure and boosts one's metabolism by helping the body metabolize fats and carbs , "both during exercise and after we eat," says Olenick. In similar fashion, running has also been shown to help with healthy blood-sugar regulation.

Mental health advantages

Running's mental health plusses are no less intriguing. "Running can be done on your own, but often has a social component as well, whether it's running with a friend or being part of a running club or virtual community," says Karmel Choi, a clinical psychologist at Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School. "This adds to the emotional benefits by reducing isolation and increasing a sense of support and motivation."

The activity can also be good for depression. Choi points to a recent study that found that individuals with depression who started running regularly "recovered at similar rates to those taking antidepressants." She's published supportive research and notes that her team estimates that if someone swapped just 15 minutes of sitting for 15 minutes of running each day, they could "reduce their risk of depression by as much as 26 percent." Part of the reason for this is because running has been shown to release "feel-good hormones like endorphins and dopamine , that have been linked to better mood, reduced stress, and even the 'runner’s high,'" Choi explains.

Beyond helping one feel better, running is associated with improved cognitive function. "Running can boost brain function by enhancing memory and learning capabilities," says Gontang. He says this occurs because running increases blood flow to the brain and stimulates the production of a molecule known as the brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), "which supports the growth of new neurons and protects existing brain cells."

Getting started

Perhaps most compelling of all is that there are very low costs and almost no barriers of entry associated with participating in the sport. "Running can seem intimidating because it sometimes seems like people need all the latest watches or gear or tools or shoes to participate, but people can simply start with a road or trail near them, and often things they already own," says Olenick.

To get started, begin slow and then work up to higher and higher fitness levels.

"Try and make it easier to increase physical activity in your daily life and within the context of daily activities you're already doing such as parking a bit further from the grocery store or taking the stairs at work," suggests Rajesh Vedanthan, a physician and population health scientist at NYU Langone Health in New York City. From there, he suggests briskly walking around the block before attempting jogging and then running.

Even after getting used to the movement, Lee suggests alternating running laps with walking or jogging laps. Adopting proper form and posture is also recommended. "Keep your head up and look forward as you run to align your spine," offers Gontang. He also says it's important to keep your shoulders relaxed and to keep your elbows at 90 degrees and to "avoid overstriding."

Developing a running schedule, finding a running buddy (the family dog counts!), and setting realistic and measurable goals are additional ways of staying motivated and keeping yourself accountable. "Proper shoe type and fit are also important," advises Ponzio.

As you go, she suggests listening to your body, avoiding doing too much, too quickly, and varying your surroundings, terrain, and destination. "Eventually, sign up for some races as the adrenaline of being part of something bigger with a community of like-minded runners is really so special," she says. "It keeps runners coming back for more."

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My Worst Best Marathon

When I arrived in Chicago for the 2021 marathon last week, I had every reason to believe I would beat my previous marathon time: a 3:29 at the 2020 Los Angeles Marathon that put me minutes under the Boston Marathon qualifying threshold. Qualifying for Boston is a big achievement for most runners, one I was proud of, and one I wanted to surpass. But it wasn't to be.

Eighteen months ago, I probably would have been too ashamed or embarrassed to write this story. But today, I'm surprised to find that not only do I want to, I feel proud to write it. The truth is, I've changed. I still want to chase big goals and push myself. But what happened Sunday during the 26.2 miles of the race made me better — even if it was my worst marathon time yet.

Running was not just a thing I did, it was a place I went. Somewhere I could be alone and let my thoughts unspool, or barely think at all.

When I started running more seriously five years ago, I instantly applied my Type A ambition to the endeavor. Running meant getting faster with every race. And for years, I did just that. Then, just a few short days after my running pinnacle at the LA Marathon, the city shut down. The pandemic took hold. I kept running, pulling up my mask whenever I came within 12 feet of my neighbors, but I was adrift. Like so many of us, I was full of grief for all we had lost, and a wave of depression left me feeling physically sick. It was hard to wake up in the mornings. My stomach always hurt. I cried when I listened to the news, then felt guilty for the crashing waves of my emotions, knowing how privileged I was and how much worse so many other people had it. But I still ran. I needed to. Running was not just a thing I did, it was a place I went. Somewhere I could be alone and let my thoughts unspool, or barely think at all. On my early-pandemic runs, I would ruminate on the beauty of the jacaranda trees in my neighborhood, leaving behind the stress that awaited me when I returned home to my computer and my phone, taking deep breaths and feeling how precarious and wonderful it was to be able to do just that. Then, in the summer of 2020, I sprained my ankle. Badly. Being injured is always hard. This time it was harder.

It was a long road back to recovery from me, both physically and when it came to mental wellness. But I dedicated myself to focusing on both. Not to, I felt, would be to disrespect everyone who wasn't able to do just that. I had to get better, I thought, simply because I had the opportunity to do it. I started back slow. In June of this year, when Nike asked me if I wanted to train for another marathon , I knew I was ready. I started working with running coach Rebeka Stowe to get race-ready for Chicago. It was a joyful training cycle. The world was cautiously reopening, and people were gathering together again. I ran with Koreatown Run Club and alongside my good friend Sheena as she prepared for the LA Marathon. I felt my speed returning, my belief in my running ability and my athletic determination trickling back into my body and brain.

Then it was race day. It wasn't long after I crossed the start line in Chicago that I realized I didn't feel right. I pride myself on my steel will, my ability to push through discomfort, and my dedication. I mean, marathons are supposed to be hard. But it also became clear that not only would reaching my goal time be nearly impossible after my rocky start, but to do it would require sacrificing something I didn't want to give: the joy of the run, the first of the American major marathons to take place since the pandemic began.

By mile eight, I knew that strange, elusive alchemy that creates the ideal race had not come together for me that day. And I changed my goal. As I looked around me at the tens of thousands of people running, I decided to let awe wash over me. All of us had survived, and here we were, back together, trying to do this impossible-seeming thing. Wow. How lucky was I to be sharing the asphalt with other runners again? To be able to be in my body, to smile, to laugh at the corny marathon signs people hoisted at us from the sidewalks? So lucky. My new focus was to lean into that feeling of elation, of gratitude, and turn my race into a fun run. To be honest, most of the miles were still not that fun. I've lucked out in my running career; even in my previous marathons, I didn't really struggle. Of course, those races were extremely hard, but I felt good — if challenged — throughout. This was different. My guts were twisted. My mouth felt made of cotton. It simply was not in me. Did I make some rookie mistakes that contributed to that? Yes. Did some things completely out of my control impact my performance? Yes. But do I feel the need to go into detail, make excuses, or offer to anyone an explanation? No.

The last year and a half has changed me. I'm still driven to push myself and accomplish more as an athlete, a writer, a person in the world. But as I gave myself the grace and understanding I needed during those long 26.2 miles in Chicago, I realized I'd grown. I'd come to learn that being kind to yourself doesn't always mean giving up on yourself. Being gentle with yourself doesn't always equal letting yourself off the hook. Sometimes it just means allowing yourself the grace you'd give anyone else in that moment. And that's hard. But I did it. And for that, I'm proud.

Don't doubt it: I'm still going to get that personal record. I know my Boston qualifying time was no fluke and I absolutely believe I can do it again. But I don't feel like I have to do it in order to prove something to myself or anyone else this time, to post my finish time on Strava and Instagram and impress some people, to feel like I've earned the label "fast." So, while my time in the Chicago Marathon wasn't an achievement for me, the race no doubt was. I've become a better athlete, a better person, and a better friend to myself. How could that not be a win?

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How to Write a Non-Cliche College Essay About Sports + Examples

What’s covered:, what makes a sports essay cliche.

How To Make Your Sports Essay Unique

Great Examples of College Essays About Sports

Where to get your college essay edited for free, or by an expert.

You’ve been brainstorming essay topics for your college applications, and you think you’ve finally found the right one: an extended metaphor likening your experience on the field with overcoming personal struggles. The problem: many other students have this same thought.

The purpose of a college essay is to make yourself stand out as a unique individual, but when students write about sports, they often blend in. Because of that, students are usually advised to pick a different topic.

That being said, it is possible to write a non-cliche college essay about sports if you put in a little extra effort. Read along to learn how to make your sports essay different from all the other sports essays.

Sports essays are cliche when they follow a standard trajectory. Some of these trajectories include writing a story about:

An agonizing defeat
Forging bonds with teammates
Overcoming adversity
Overcoming an injury
Refusing to quit
Victory during a big game

Because sports essays have very similar themes and “lessons learned,” it can be difficult to make your story stand out. These trajectories also often focus too much on the sport or storyline, and not enough on the writer’s reflections and personality.

As you write your essay, try to think about what your experience says about you rather than what you learned from your experience. You are more than just one lesson you learned!

(Keep in mind that the sports essay is not the only college essay cliche. Learn about other essay cliches and how to fix them in our complete guide).

How to Make Your Sports Essay Unique

1. focus on a specific moment or reflection..

The college essay is a way for students to humanize themselves to admissions officers. You do not feel human if you are describing yourself as just another player on the field!

One important way to make your essay about you (not just about sports) is by focusing on a specific moment in time and inviting the reader to join you in that moment. Explain to the reader what it would be like to be sitting in that locker room as you questioned the values of the other players on your team. Ask your reader to sit with you on the cot in the trainer’s room as your identity was stripped away from you when they said “your body can’t take this anymore.” Bring your reader to the dinner table and involve them in your family’s conversation about how sports were affecting your mental health and your treatment of those around you.

Intense descriptions of a specific experience will evoke emotions in your reader and allow them to connect with you and feel for you.

When in doubt, avoid anything that can be covered by ESPN. On ESPN, we see the games, we see the benches, we even see the locker rooms and training rooms. Take your reader somewhere different and show them something unique.

2. Use sports to point out broader themes in your life.

The main risk when writing about sports is neglecting to write about yourself. Before you get started, think about the main values that you want to express in your sports essay. Sports are simply your avenue for telling the reader what makes you unique.

As a test, imagine if you were a pianist. Would you be able to talk about these same values? What if you were a writer? Or a chemist? Articulating your values is the end, and sports should simply be your means.

Some values that you might want to focus on:

Autonomy (you want to be able to set your mind to anything and achieve it on your own)
Growth (you seek improvement constantly)
Curiosity (you are willing to try anything once)
Vulnerability (you aren’t afraid to fail, as long as you give it your all)
Community (you value the feedback of others and need camaraderie to succeed)
Craft (you think that with deliberate care, anything can be perfected)
Responsibility (you believe that you owe something to those around you and perhaps they also owe something to you)

You can use the ESPN check again to make sure that you are using sports as an avenue to show your depth.

Things ESPN covers: how a player reacts to defeat, how injuries affect a player’s gameplay/attitude, how players who don’t normally work well together are working together on their new team.

Things ESPN doesn’t cover: the conversation that a player had with their mother about fear of death before going into a big surgery (value: family and connection), the ways that the intense pressure to succeed consumed a player to the point they couldn’t be there for the people in their life (value: supporting others and community), the body image issues that weigh on a player’s mind when playing their sport and how they overcame those (value: health and growth).

3. Turn a cliche storyline on its head.

There’s no getting around the fact that sports essays are often cliche. But there is a way to confront the cliche head-on. For example, lots of people write essays about the lessons they learned from an injury, victory, and so on, but fewer students explain how they are embracing those lessons.

Perhaps you learned that competition is overwhelming for you and you prefer teamwork, so you switched from playing basketball to playing Dungeons & Dragons. Maybe, when your softball career ended abruptly, you had to find a new identity and that’s when you became obsessed with your flower garden and decided to pursue botany. Or maybe, you have stuck with football through it all, but your junior-year mental health struggle showed you that football should be fun and you have since started a nonprofit for local children to healthily engage with sports.

If your story itself is more cliche, try bringing readers to the present moment with you and show why the cliche matters and what it did for you. This requires a fair amount of creativity. Ensure you’re not parroting a frequently used topic by really thinking deeply to find your own unique spin.

Night had robbed the academy of its daytime colors, yet there was comfort in the dim lights that cast shadows of our advances against the bare studio walls. Silhouettes of roundhouse kicks, spin crescent kicks, uppercuts and the occasional butterfly kick danced while we sparred. She approached me, eyes narrowed with the trace of a smirk challenging me. “Ready spar!” Her arm began an upward trajectory targeting my shoulder, a common first move. I sidestepped — only to almost collide with another flying fist. Pivoting my right foot, I snapped my left leg, aiming my heel at her midsection. The center judge raised one finger.

There was no time to celebrate, not in the traditional sense at least. Master Pollard gave a brief command greeted with a unanimous “Yes, sir” and the thud of 20 hands dropping-down-and-giving-him-30, while the “winners” celebrated their victory with laps as usual.

Three years ago, seven-thirty in the evening meant I was a warrior. It meant standing up straighter, pushing a little harder, “Yes, sir” and “Yes, ma’am”, celebrating birthdays by breaking boards, never pointing your toes, and familiarity. Three years later, seven-thirty in the morning meant I was nervous.

The room is uncomfortably large. The sprung floor soaks up the checkerboard of sunlight piercing through the colonial windows. The mirrored walls further illuminate the studio and I feel the light scrutinizing my sorry attempts at a pas de bourrée, while capturing the organic fluidity of the dancers around me. “Chassé en croix, grand battement, pique, pirouette.” I follow the graceful limbs of the woman in front of me, her legs floating ribbons, as she executes what seems to be a perfect ronds de jambes. Each movement remains a negotiation. With admirable patience, Ms. Tan casts me a sympathetic glance.

There is no time to wallow in the misery that is my right foot. Taekwondo calls for dorsiflexion; pointed toes are synonymous with broken toes. My thoughts drag me into a flashback of the usual response to this painful mistake: “You might as well grab a tutu and head to the ballet studio next door.” Well, here I am Master Pollard, unfortunately still following your orders to never point my toes, but no longer feeling the satisfaction that comes with being a third degree black belt with 5 years of experience quite literally under her belt. It’s like being a white belt again — just in a leotard and ballet slippers.

But the appetite for new beginnings that brought me here doesn’t falter. It is only reinforced by the classical rendition of “Dancing Queen” that floods the room and the ghost of familiarity that reassures me that this new beginning does not and will not erase the past. After years spent at the top, it’s hard to start over. But surrendering what you are only leads you to what you may become. In Taekwondo, we started each class reciting the tenets: honor, courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, courage, humility, and knowledge, and I have never felt that I embodied those traits more so than when I started ballet.

The thing about change is that it eventually stops making things so different. After nine different schools, four different countries, three different continents, fluency in Tamil, Norwegian, and English, there are more blurred lines than there are clear fragments. My life has not been a tactfully executed, gold medal-worthy Taekwondo form with each movement defined, nor has it been a series of frappés performed by a prima ballerina with each extension identical and precise, but thankfully it has been like the dynamics of a spinning back kick, fluid, and like my chances of landing a pirouette, unpredictable.

Why it works:

What’s especially powerful about this essay is that the author uses detailed imagery to convey a picture of what they’re experiencing, so much so that the reader is along for the ride. This works as a sports essay not only because of the language and sensory details, but also because the writer focuses on a specific moment in time, while at the same time exploring why Taekwondo is such an important part of their life.

After the emotional image is created, the student finishes their essay with valuable reflection. With the reflection, they show admissions officers that they are mature and self-aware. Self-awareness comes through with statements like “surrendering what you are only leads you to what you may become” and maturity can be seen through the student’s discussion of values “honor, courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, courage, humility, and knowledge, and I have never felt that I embodied those traits more so than when I started ballet.” These are the kinds of comments that should find their way into a sports essay!

“Advanced females ages 13 to 14 please proceed to staging with your coaches at this time.” Skittering around the room, eyes wide and pleading, I frantically explained my situation to nearby coaches. The seconds ticked away in my head; every polite refusal increased my desperation.

Despair weighed me down. I sank to my knees as a stream of competitors, coaches, and officials flowed around me. My dojang had no coach, and the tournament rules prohibited me from competing without one.

Although I wanted to remain strong, doubts began to cloud my mind. I could not help wondering: what was the point of perfecting my skills if I would never even compete? The other members of my team, who had found coaches minutes earlier, attempted to comfort me, but I barely heard their words. They couldn’t understand my despair at being left on the outside, and I never wanted them to understand.

Since my first lesson 12 years ago, the members of my dojang have become family. I have watched them grow up, finding my own happiness in theirs. Together, we have honed our kicks, blocks, and strikes. We have pushed one another to aim higher and become better martial artists. Although my dojang had searched for a reliable coach for years, we had not found one. When we attended competitions in the past, my teammates and I had always gotten lucky and found a sympathetic coach. Now, I knew this practice was unsustainable. It would devastate me to see the other members of my dojang in my situation, unable to compete and losing hope as a result. My dojang needed a coach, and I decided it was up to me to find one.

I first approached the adults in the dojang – both instructors and members’ parents. However, these attempts only reacquainted me with polite refusals. Everyone I asked told me they couldn’t devote multiple weekends per year to competitions. I soon realized that I would have become the coach myself.

At first, the inner workings of tournaments were a mystery to me. To prepare myself for success as a coach, I spent the next year as an official and took coaching classes on the side. I learned everything from motivational strategies to technical, behind-the-scenes components of Taekwondo competitions. Though I emerged with new knowledge and confidence in my capabilities, others did not share this faith.

Parents threw me disbelieving looks when they learned that their children’s coach was only a child herself. My self-confidence was my armor, deflecting their surly glances. Every armor is penetrable, however, and as the relentless barrage of doubts pounded my resilience, it began to wear down. I grew unsure of my own abilities.

Despite the attack, I refused to give up. When I saw the shining eyes of the youngest students preparing for their first competition, I knew I couldn’t let them down. To quit would be to set them up to be barred from competing like I was. The knowledge that I could solve my dojang’s longtime problem motivated me to overcome my apprehension.

Now that my dojang flourishes at competitions, the attacks on me have weakened, but not ended. I may never win the approval of every parent; at times, I am still tormented by doubts, but I find solace in the fact that members of my dojang now only worry about competing to the best of their abilities.

Now, as I arrive at a tournament with my students, I close my eyes and remember the past. I visualize the frantic search for a coach and the chaos amongst my teammates as we compete with one another to find coaches before the staging calls for our respective divisions. I open my eyes to the exact opposite scene. Lacking a coach hurt my ability to compete, but I am proud to know that no member of my dojang will have to face that problem again.

In the beginning, you might think this is another cliche sports essay about overcoming adversity. But instead, it becomes a unique statement and coming-of-age tale that reads as a suspenseful narrative.

The author connects their experience with martial arts to larger themes in their life but manages to do so without riffing off of tried-and-true themes. Through statements like “I knew I couldn’t let them down. To quit would be to set them up to be barred from competing like I was” we learn about the students values and their desire to be there for those who depend on them.

The student also brings it full circle, demonstrating their true transformation. By using the “Same, but Different” ending technique , the student places themself in the same environment that we saw in the intro, but experiences it differently due to their actions throughout the narrative. This is very compelling!

“1…2…3…4 pirouettes! New record!” My friends cheered as I landed my turns. Pleased with my progress, I gazed down at my worn-out pointe shoes. The sweltering blisters, numbing ice-baths, and draining late-night practices did not seem so bad after all. Next goal: five turns.

For as long as I can remember, ballet, in all its finesse and glamor, had kept me driven day to day. As a child, the lithe ballerinas, donning ethereal costumes as they floated across the stage, were my motivation. While others admired Messi and Adele, I idolized Carlos Acosta, principal dancer of the Royal Ballet.

As I devoted more time and energy towards my craft, I became obsessed with improving my technique. I would stretch for hours after class, forcing my leg one inch higher in an effort to mirror the Dance Magazine cover girls. I injured my feet and ruined pair after pair of pointe shoes, turning on wood, cement, and even grass to improve my balance as I spun. At competitions, the dancers with the 180-degree leg extensions, endless turns, and soaring leaps—the ones who received “Bravos!” from the roaring audience—further pushed me to refine my skills and perfect my form. I believed that, with enough determination, I would one day attain their level of perfection. Reaching the quadruple-pirouette milestone only intensified my desire to accomplish even more.

My efforts seemed to have come to fruition two summers ago when I was accepted to dance with Moscow’s Bolshoi Ballet at their renowned New York City summer intensive. I walked into my first session eager to learn from distinguished ballet masters and worldly dancers, already anticipating my improvement. Yet, as I danced alongside the accomplished ballerinas, I felt out of place. Despite their clean technique and professional training, they did not aim for glorious leg extensions or prodigious leaps. When they performed their turn combinations, most of them only executed two turns as I attempted four.

“Dancers, double-pirouettes only.”

Taken aback and confused, I wondered why our teacher expected so little from us. The other ballerinas seemed content, gracing the studio with their simple movements.

As I grew closer with my Moscow roommates, I gradually learned that their training emphasized the history of the art form instead of stylistic tricks. Rather than show off their physical ability, their performances aimed to convey a story, one that embodied the rich culture of ballet and captured both the legacy of the dancers before them and their own artistry. As I observed my friends more intently in repertoire class, I felt the pain of the grief-stricken white swan from Swan Lake, the sass of the flirtatious Kitri from Don Quijote, and I gradually saw what I had overlooked before. My definition of talent had been molded by crowd-pleasing elements—whirring pirouettes, gravity-defying leaps, and mind-blowing leg extensions. This mindset slowly stripped me from the roots of my passion and my personal connection with ballet.

With the Bolshoi, I learned to step back and explore the meaning behind each step and the people behind the scenes. Ballet carries history in its movements, from the societal values of the era to each choreographer’s unique flair. As I uncovered the messages behind each pirouette, kick, and jump, my appreciation for ballet grew beyond my obsession with raw athleticism and developed into a love for the art form’s emotive abilities in bridging the dancers with the audience. My journey as an artist has allowed me to see how technical execution is only the means to a greater understanding between dancer and spectator, between storyteller and listener. The elegance and complexity of ballet does not revolve around astonishing stunts but rather the evocative strength and artistry manifested in the dancer, in me. It is the combination of sentiments, history, tradition, and passion that has allowed ballet and its lessons of human connection to become my lifestyle both on and off stage.

This essay is about lessons. While the author is a dancer, this narrative isn’t really about ballet, per se — it’s about the author’s personal growth. It is purposefully reflective as the student shows a nice character arc that begins with an eager young ballerina and ends with a reflection on their past. The primary strength of this essay is the honesty and authenticity that the student approaches it with.

In the end, the student turns a cliche on its head as they embrace the idea of overcoming adversity and demonstrate how the adversity, in this case, was their own stereotypes about their art. It’s beautiful!

“Getting beat is one thing – it’s part of competing – but I want no part in losing.” Coach Rob Stark’s motto never fails to remind me of his encouragement on early-morning bus rides to track meets around the state. I’ve always appreciated the phrase, but an experience last June helped me understand its more profound, universal meaning.

Stark, as we affectionately call him, has coached track at my high school for 25 years. His care, dedication, and emphasis on developing good character has left an enduring impact on me and hundreds of other students. Not only did he help me discover my talent and love for running, but he also taught me the importance of commitment and discipline and to approach every endeavor with the passion and intensity that I bring to running. When I learned a neighboring high school had dedicated their track to a longtime coach, I felt that Stark deserved similar honors.

Our school district’s board of education indicated they would only dedicate our track to Stark if I could demonstrate that he was extraordinary. I took charge and mobilized my teammates to distribute petitions, reach out to alumni, and compile statistics on the many team and individual champions Stark had coached over the years. We received astounding support, collecting almost 3,000 signatures and pages of endorsements from across the community. With help from my teammates, I presented this evidence to the board.

They didn’t bite.

Most members argued that dedicating the track was a low priority. Knowing that we had to act quickly to convince them of its importance, I called a team meeting where we drafted a rebuttal for the next board meeting. To my surprise, they chose me to deliver it. I was far from the best public speaker in the group, and I felt nervous about going before the unsympathetic board again. However, at that second meeting, I discovered that I enjoy articulating and arguing for something that I’m passionate about.

Public speaking resembles a cross country race. Walking to the starting line, you have to trust your training and quell your last minute doubts. When the gun fires, you can’t think too hard about anything; your performance has to be instinctual, natural, even relaxed. At the next board meeting, the podium was my starting line. As I walked up to it, familiar butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Instead of the track stretching out in front of me, I faced the vast audience of teachers, board members, and my teammates. I felt my adrenaline build, and reassured myself: I’ve put in the work, my argument is powerful and sound. As the board president told me to introduce myself, I heard, “runners set” in the back of my mind. She finished speaking, and Bang! The brief silence was the gunshot for me to begin.

The next few minutes blurred together, but when the dust settled, I knew from the board members’ expressions and the audience’s thunderous approval that I had run quite a race. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough; the board voted down our proposal. I was disappointed, but proud of myself, my team, and our collaboration off the track. We stood up for a cause we believed in, and I overcame my worries about being a leader. Although I discovered that changing the status quo through an elected body can be a painstakingly difficult process and requires perseverance, I learned that I enjoy the challenges this effort offers. Last month, one of the school board members joked that I had become a “regular” – I now often show up to meetings to advocate for a variety of causes, including better environmental practices in cafeterias and safer equipment for athletes.

Just as Stark taught me, I worked passionately to achieve my goal. I may have been beaten when I appealed to the board, but I certainly didn’t lose, and that would have made Stark proud.

This essay uses the idea of sports to explore a more profound topic—growing through relationships. They really embrace using sports as an avenue to tell the reader about a specific experience that changed the way they approach the world.

The emphasis on relationships is why this essay works well and doesn’t fall into a cliche. The narrator grows not because of their experience with track but because of their relationship with their coach, who inspired them to evolve and become a leader.

Have a draft of your college essay? We’re here to help you polish it. Students can participate in a free Peer Review, or they can sign up for a paid review by CollegeVine’s experts. Sign up for your free CollegeVine account today to start improving your essay and your chances of acceptance!

From Identity to Inspiration: A Reading List on Why We Run

“The Running Novelist” (Haruki Murakami, The New Yorker , June 2008)

Longtime fans of the Murakami Cinematic Universe will find familiar elements here: baseball, jazz, understated prose, and non sequiturs. For a time, before Murakami became a novelist, he was the owner of a jazz club in Tokyo. In this piece, he describes how — and exactly when — he decided to write and how his early habits and commitments allowed him to do so prolifically for decades.

Running a jazz club required constant physical labor, but when Murakami started to spend more time at his desk, he started gaining weight. “This couldn’t be good for me,” he writes in a deadpan statement. “If I wanted to have a long life as a novelist, I needed to find a way to stay in shape.” Being metabolically challenged helped Murakami develop his work ethic.

Murakami drops writing advice while making parallel points about running. But the way he does it is frustratingly tantalizing — he’s not the one to share his tips openly à la Robert McKee. Murakami suggests that writing, like running, relies less on quick decision-making skills than patience and long contemplation: “Long-distance running suits my personality better, which may explain why I was able to incorporate it so smoothly into my daily life.”

Murakami calls himself a no-talent — a colossal understatement — but readers who have encountered unreliable narrators in his novels know better: We shouldn’t be so naïve as to take his words at face value.

Writers who are blessed with inborn talent can write easily, no matter what they do—or don’t do. Like water from a natural spring, the sentences just well up, and with little or no effort these writers can complete a work. Unfortunately, I don’t fall into that category. I have to pound away at a rock with a chisel and dig out a deep hole before I can locate the source of my creativity. Every time I begin a new novel, I have to dredge out another hole. But, as I’ve sustained this kind of life over many years, I’ve become quite efficient, both technically and physically, at opening those holes in the rock and locating new water veins.

Murakami doesn’t debunk the myth of an artistic genius but shows that with a sustainable routine, the genius can be prolific. If you’re reading for concrete advice on writing and a neat analogy comparing running to writing, you won’t find it here. Rather, we get something better: a portrait of the artist as a young runner.

“Why I Run: On Thoreau and the Pleasures of Not Quite Knowing Where You’re Going” (Rachel Richardson, Literary Hub , October 2022)

Don’t let the title fool you. Rachel Richardson has no unconditional praise for Thoreau; she politely defies him. In his essay “Walking,” Thoreau spoke to an audience of men as he opined on nature. To him, women were symbols — “for the splay of land on which such a free man saunters,” writes Richardson — rather than his target readers.

To read Thoreau’s essay in 2023 is to be startled by his problematic view of women and puritanical sense of “capital-N” Nature. He would not approve of the urban environment that Richardson describes while she runs: “I was born in a California he didn’t imagine, in a hospital in a town laid out with lawns and gardens.” Her piece is a bracing tonic against the writer’s anachronistic thoughts.

Richardson, like many other runners like me, was not always a runner: “How or why anyone would do this for pleasure was beyond my ability to fathom,” she thought when growing up. But in her 20s, she discovered running as a refreshingly guilt-free activity to do in a world that made her anxious. (People who started running during the pandemic, like me, might agree. Unlike going to the gym or participating in a team sport, which were risky at the time, running was easier to navigate and do on our own.)

Richardson writes that she never knows what her running route will be. But that uncertainty brings relief. Freedom. Inspiration. Running rewards runners with a sense of uncomplicated happiness and goodwill, which Richardson details in this delightful passage:

When I run, I smile and people smile back. Kids wave at me and cyclists nod as they zoom by. Other runners raise a hand of hello or, my favorite, flash a big grin. Sometimes we’re wearing the same race shirt—me too!, I point. Sometimes they’re in a zone I can’t penetrate, with their earbuds and podcast or playlist keeping them company. I still smile, even when they don’t look up. Hey, we’re out here, doing this beautiful thing. When the endorphins start kicking in, around mile three, I love everybody, even the sourest-faced walker or most oblivious group of teenagers taking up the whole trail and dropping Doritos on the ground. Nice dog!, I shout when I see a dog happily panting at her runner’s side, or You’ve got this! to the struggling jogger stumbling to the end of his route. … I am an unrepentant dork when I run.

“To Run My Best Marathon at Age 44, I Had to Outrun My Past” (Nicholas Thompson, Wired , April 2020)

I have beef with running memoirs that try to overburden the sport with dramatic insights. Not because insights can’t be found in running, but because execution without sentimentality is no easy feat. Thompson’s essay — which deals with, among many things, family relationships, parental abuse and influence, sexuality, ambition, and mortality — is a clear-eyed piece that demonstrates what can be done in the hands of a dexterous editor and writer.

I’ve read this piece many times, and like a good novel, I’m drawn to different themes every time. In my most recent read, two ideas resonated: defining one’s identity separate from one’s parents’ and identifying with one’s masculinity without being poisoned by it. It’s an all-consuming narrative that spans four generations of men in Thompson’s family.

As he would later tell me, running was the rare sport where you mostly competed against yourself. You could learn without having to lose. It was also something he hadn’t failed at in front of his father.

I sent an early version of this essay to my older sister, who saw something clearly that I hadn’t identified yet. “Running solved nothing for [Dad]. You’ve had a longer journey with it, and used it in ways that are much more productive. But I have this nagging sense that your story of needing to follow footsteps (the schools, the running) and needing so much not to follow footsteps (the overindulgence, the flameout, the irresponsibility and failure) are more complexly interwoven.

“To Invigorate Literary Mind, Start Moving Literary Feet” (Joyce Carol Oates, The New York Times , July 1999)

Whereas Murakami’s piece, detached from romanticism, was not a very effective sales pitch for running, Joyce Carol Oates’ ode to running may intrigue any writer who could use more literary imagination; she writes about running as a consciousness-expanding activity, allowing her to envision what she writes as a film or dream: “I’ve never thought of writing as the mere arrangement of words on the page but as the attempted embodiment of a vision: a complex of emotions, raw experience.”

This piece was written more than 20 years ago. Oates, one of America’s most renowned storytellers, has published more than 70 books in her literary career. For her, running certainly seems to work.

The effort of memorable art is to evoke in the reader or spectator emotions appropriate to that effort. Running is a meditation; more practicably it allows me to scroll through, in my mind’s eye, the pages I’ve just written, proofreading for errors and improvements. My method is one of continuous revision. While writing a long novel, every day I loop back to earlier sections to rewrite, in order to maintain a consistent, fluid voice. When I write the final two or three chapters of a novel, I write them simultaneously with the rewriting of the opening, so that, ideally at least, the novel is like a river uniformly flowing, each passage concurrent with all the others.

Though I can’t claim the same level of inspiration, something similar happened when I first started running. During my daily runs, I experienced breakthroughs where I felt stuck: A connective sentence or a word I’d been looking for would pop into my head. On some days, this happened so often that I needed to stop every few minutes to record it on my phone, which disrupted my run. Eventually, I learned to run with a waterproof pocket notebook in my left hand and a retractable pen in my right.

“Running in the Age of Coronavirus” (Chris Ballard, Sports Illustrated , May 2020)

The May 2020 timing of this piece on Jim Fixx, the “father of recreational running,” was wonderfully apt for pandemic-inspired runners. It was as if Chris Ballard, a seasoned sports writer, was inducting new runners into the history of the sport.

Ballard observed that more people started running during the pandemic, believing it “would in some way do them good, or make them feel better about themselves or the world, if even for a moment.” But the belief that running is good for your body and soul wasn’t always accepted wisdom but once an argument, even a radical and contrarian one.

It may sound glib to say that “running saved my life.” But for Fixx, it really did. And, in a tragic irony, it also killed him. Fixx was one of the central figures of the running boom of the ’70s and whose book, The Complete Book of Running , became “the most lucrative nonfiction title ever published by Random House,” writes Ballard. It was a hit, and the media couldn’t get enough of him. As Ballard writes, “a fad had become a craze,” and for the first time in a year, 100,000 Americans finished a marathon. The book was noteworthy not just because it was an encyclopedia of running; it heralded a certain kind of running memoir, one in which an author details their salvation by running.

Ballard writes both a pocket history guide on how running became a major sport in America and a personal history of the man who made it possible. Although this story has been told many times, Ballard’s reporting is enriched by Fixx’s journals, to which his family offered access for the first time.

After his death, the sports world changed profoundly. Running was no longer a craze, or a miracle cure. But neither did it die. Instead, it evolved. In 1977, 25,000 Americans finished marathons; By ’94, more than 300,000 did. In ’94, Oprah ran, and completed, her only marathon, spurring a boom among those who felt the feat previously unreachable. By the turn of the century, how you ran mattered as much as whether you did. Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run spurred thousands to tromp through the woods barefoot. Ultramarathons gained in popularity. Rock ’n’ roll marathon and fun run entered the lexicon. By 2011, women accounted for close to 60% of the finishers in half-marathons.

It’s not exactly a light read, so let me leave you with an irresistible detail: Fixx’s father was born a Fix but added a second x to his name. Why? He thought, “a person’s name ought to be a proper noun, not a verb.”

“What We Think About When We Run” (Kathryn Schulz, The New Yorker , November 2015)

I couldn’t think of a better piece to wrap up this reading list than a meta-essay about writing on running by Kathryn Schulz who is, after all, a master of meta-writing. ( Her piece about Oxford’s “A Very Short Introduction” series is a good example.)

What do runners think about when they run? In the first part of this two-part story, Schulz looks to scientific research and lays out the uninspiring results. She writes: “Like a fair number of psychological studies, this one confirmed the obvious while simultaneously missing it.” But she continues:

Of course runners think about their route, their pace, their pain, and their environment. But what of everything else that routinely surfaces in the mind during a run? The new girlfriend, the professional dilemma, the batteries you need to remember to buy for the smoke detector, what to get your mom for her birthday, the brilliance with which Daveed Diggs plays Thomas Jefferson (if you are listening to the soundtrack to “Hamilton”), the music, the moment (if you are listening to Eminem), the Walter Mitty meanderings into alternate lives: all of this is strangely missing from Samson’s study. The British author Alan Sillitoe got it right in his 1958 short story “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner”: “They can spy on us all day to see if we’re … doing our ‘athletics,’ but they can’t make an X-ray of our guts to find out what we’re telling ourselves.”

Then, Schulz points out, with a knowing wit, the shortcomings of contemporary writing on running. Writing about running without schmaltz — like Murakami — is no easy feat, which makes it hard for people to find books that “address the mind of the runner in descriptive rather than inspirational or aspirational terms.” You could also argue that Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run , despite being enjoyable, reads like gonzo journalism. And some running memoirs that read like redemption memoirs, such as Robin Harvie’s The Lure of Long Distances , follow the same formula.

Later, Schulz champions Poverty Creek Journal , a book by literary-critic-cum-runner Thomas Gardner, as “the only one to uncover the literary possibilities inside the terse, repetitive, normally unimaginative genre of the running log.” After reading this piece, I read this strangely profound book — it’s a mix of literary criticism, running logs, and thoughts that range from complaints to grief.

When Schulz says running logs are “terse, repetitive, normally unimaginative,” she doesn’t intend it as a criticism. Running is, admittedly, an incredibly understimulating sport to watch, so much so that I suspect even the most avid runners probably don’t sit down to watch the Boston Marathon from beginning to the end.

And here’s a pitfall of sports writing: There’s often too great a desire to imbue a grand meaning to the sport. “Life is a marathon,” goes the cliché. But the thing is, life is like a marathon. So writing about running becomes a balancing act, one in which — without sufficient craft and self-awareness — can be a challenge. But here, Schulz (and Gardner) masterfully explore the essence of running, in all its glory and tedium. A sport of contradiction indeed.

Sheon Han is a writer and programmer based in Palo Alto, California. His work has appeared in The New Yorker , The Atlantic , The New York Times Magazine , Quanta Magazine , and elsewhere. You can read his work at sheon.tk .

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Essay captures the spirit of running

By Gene Adams

As a coach, teacher, and veteran I’ve come to appreciate the efforts that young people put forth. Too many times our society maligns our nation’s youth when in fact only a small portion are trouble makers or malingerers. Each year, one of the selection criteria for FIT San Angelo scholarships is a written essay. I’m always impressed by the quality of these essays and how articulate they are. As a result, I believe I’ll start a new tradition by including one essay in my column yearly. The first comes from Sarah Holik, a recent graduate from Wall High School, who entitled her essay “How Running Has Affected My Life”.

“Since I was little, running has always been a big part of my life. From elementary on I have been competing in some kind of running competition. I remember in P.E. my favorite game was square tag because you got to race the other team and try to tag them. Little Olympics was a big deal in elementary and I thought I was so cool for being in all three running events. I was involved in the Little Olympics for three consecutive years. I believe this was the beginning of my competitive drive to run and be successful. Once junior high started I was involved in cross country and track every year, and continued to run both sports throughout my high school years. Running has a positive effect on my life and I have learned many life lessons from doing so.

“It takes hard work to do so many sports and running sports are ones that require a lot of hard work and intense training. In high school, the year starts off with two a days for cross country, which were some very strenuous workouts twice a day for two weeks. I have grown up on a farm and have had to help work on it in the summer months. I started very young having to get up in the morning early and go out in the fields to help chop. This work involved walking in soft dirt, having to be out in the heat and dealing with sweat and gnats biting you when it was very dry. This part of my life definitely helped me deal with the hot and sometimes gruesome workouts of two-a-days. Yet I loved the competitive part of running and continued to run cross country all four years in high school.

“While running, I also learned perseverance and motivation. During the more difficult workouts and on days when you just didn’t care to be out there in the heat working, it took perseverance in order to keep going and not quit. Throughout my years competing, I had some injuries that affected my running but I had to learn to deal with the pain I felt running and keep going. Being motivated also made the training and competing seem easier and more fun. If you have a positive attitude about it and can motivate yourself and all the pain and hard work you go through doesn’t seem as bad. Learning to not give up and to keep persevering through the tough times was a very valuable lesson I learned. I feel that in the next few years of college and in my future job this will be a very beneficial lesson.

“During my four years of cross country and track I learned teamwork. You have to work together and push each other in order to get better. Each day in practice you use each other to push yourself to make yourself better, faster, and stronger. In track I especially learned teamwork because I was on the relays. I had to be able to get along with other girls and work with them. Being on a relay keeps you focused more on doing your best because other girls are relying on you to do your part. I am getting my degree in nursing and once I get a job I will be working with several other nurses and the teamwork I learned will prepare me for this.

“My last two years on the track team I learned how to be a leader. After cross country was over I would be in charge of the track off-season girls. I was responsible for coming up with workouts for us to do and making sure everyone was doing them. Many days the girls wouldn’t want to do anything or slack off and I would have to get them motivated again and push them to work hard. Once track season started I kept my role as a leader and pushed everyone to do their best and to always work hard. I also lead by example. Every day I was pushing myself to be better and it inspired my teammates to do the same.

“In my competitive years of running I have learned hard work, perseverance, motivation, teamwork, and leadership. These are qualities I will use from now on. Besides these qualities I have gained, I have made some great friends and the sport has good health benefits. I love running and it has made a big difference in my life. Running is a wonderful sport and has affected my life in a positive way!”

This essay once again proves running is not all about awards and results. It’s about time spent with friends, it’s about developing running communities, and knowing you did the best you could on any given day.

Sempre Avanti, Always Forward.

Gene D. Adams is founder and president of FIT San Angelo. His column appears every other Wednesday. Contact him at [email protected]

Sports Columnists Archive Oct 31, 2016 | AREA ROUNDUP: Several teams’ seasons will be on the line in Week 11 Oct 29, 2016 | Column: After further review, can robot umps be far behind? Oct 28, 2016 | BILL CULLINS: John Parsons Memorial Run to honor former civic leader, raise money for scholarship Oct 27, 2016 | MIKE LEE: Lipsey’s life changed for the better when he least expected it Oct 27, 2016 | BRETT HOFFMAN: Professional Bull Riders tour has a new top cowboy Oct 25, 2016 | Column: Theo is restless in a way the rest of us are not Oct 25, 2016 | Where’s Steve Bartman? Cheering for the Cubs Oct 25, 2016 | Doby’s legacy alive in Cleveland Oct 21, 2016 | BILL CULLINS: As the sun begins to set earlier, night safety becomes more important Oct 20, 2016 | MIKE LEE: Biedermann’s simple philosophy has worked well as Wall’s announcer for over 50 years

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Your chance of acceptance, your chancing factors, extracurriculars, writing an essay about a sport.

Hey everyone, I want to write an essay about my experience playing a sport in high school. How can I make sure my essay stands out and doesn't come across as cliché? Any tips for showcasing it in a unique way? Thanks!

Hi there! It's great that you want to write about your high school sports experience in a unique way. Remember, it's not the topic itself that's cliché, but rather how the story is told. Here are some tips to help your essay stand out:

1. Focus on a specific moment: Instead of writing about your entire sports journey, concentrate on a singular event, experience, or turning point. This approach will allow you to delve deeper into the emotions and lessons that arose from that situation.

2. Reflect on personal growth: Use the sport as a backdrop for a larger story about your personal development. Maybe playing on the team taught you valuable time management skills or it helped you forge meaningful relationships. Discuss how these experiences have shaped you and contributed to your personal growth.

3. Be authentic and genuine: Don't exaggerate your achievements or experiences. Authenticity will always be more engaging than hyperbole. Be honest and share your true feelings and thoughts in the essay.

4. Show, don't tell: Use sensory details, anecdotes, and dialogues to paint a vivid picture of your sporting experiences. Instead of simply stating what happened or how it impacted you, engage the reader with descriptive elements that immerse them in the story.

5. Avoid common themes: Steer clear of emphasizing sports victories or injuries as the central theme of your essay. Focus on unique aspects of your experience that are less likely to be covered in other sports-related essays.

6. Connect to your future goals and aspirations: Tie your sports experience to your future academic or career ambitions. Explain how the skills and lessons you've learned through sports can be applied in college and beyond.

For example, rather than discussing how your team won the state championship, you could write about a specific moment when you overcame self-doubt or anxiety during a critical game. Reflect on how this experience taught you to trust yourself and your abilities, and how this newfound confidence can be applied to various aspects of your life, including college and your future career.

You can also read more about how to creatively approach the sports story, and other common essay topics, on CollegeVine's blog: https://blog.collegevine.com/cliche-college-essay-topics. If you still aren't sure if your essay is unique enough, consider utilizing CollegeVine's Free Peer Essay Review Tool, or submitting your essay for a paid review by an expert college admissions advisor through CollegeVine's marketplace.

By following these guidelines and crafting your story in a unique and personal way, you can avoid the cliché pitfalls and create an engaging essay that leaves a lasting impression on college admissions officers. Good luck with your essay writing!

About CollegeVine’s Expert FAQ

CollegeVine’s Q&A seeks to offer informed perspectives on commonly asked admissions questions. Every answer is refined and validated by our team of admissions experts to ensure it resonates with trusted knowledge in the field.

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Running Essay Examples

Mental and physical health benefits of running.

Running is tiring, it’s tedious, it’s painful and it’s exhausting. We often hear many complaining about aching knees, strained muscles and how energy consuming it is, not to mention how hot and humid it is to run here in Singapore. So why do people still...

Overcoming a Challenge of Cross-country Run

It was my senior year of high school and I decided to try something new. I had previously played baseball, but due to an arm injury, that wouldn’t heal, I could no longer play. So, I thought I would try a different sport, something that would challenge me, cross-country....

The Marathon Race: Endurance, Triumph, and Unity

The marathon race, a grueling long-distance event, embodies the spirit of human endurance, determination, and unity. This essay delves into the significance of the marathon race, exploring its historical roots, the physical and mental challenges participants face, and the sense of community and accomplishment that...

Development of a Safety Running Plan for Georgetown University Medical Center

Securing and principle now a day in this era is as important as maintaining profitability of any organization. When science and technology has wide-spread to every person there are both the aspects that exist. The report explains why we need a safety running plan for...

The Popularity of Running in America

In the modern world, sport has played an increasingly important role in our lives, and it's getting more and more popular. You may have heard of sports as medicine. It's not just a statement, it's a fact. There is plenty of scientific evidence that regular...

A Research on Reaction Time

The purpose of this lab was to explore the relationship between visual reaction time, auditory reaction time, and movement time. The functional definition of a reaction time is the amount of time from the onset of a stimulus to the initiation of response, and movement...

Germany in the Sport of Distance Running

From the notoriety of the Berlin Marathon being one of the fastest and most famous Abbott Marathon Majors, to the successful sub-2-hour marathon attempt in Vienna in October 2019 by Eliud Kipchoge, Germany and the surrounding countries are known for their robust running scenes. This...

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