文书点评：中国的短跑手（Chinese sprinters）

Chinese men are not sprinters.

There are Chinese divers and Chinese gymnasts represented at the Olympics every year, and we participate in a plethora of other sports, but this one omission from the pantheon of athletes persists to this day, in both national and international competitions. The Chinese do not run.

Therefore, at the beginning of my second year on the track team, I felt a little discouraged.
During my freshman year, every meet I attended had one common denominator: the fast runners were African-American. Their long, lanky limbs stood in sharp contrast to my own, genetically-predisposed skinny and short ones. This, I thought, looking down at my legs, was not the physique of a sprinter.

When my mother dropped me off at the Gahr High School track early one Saturday morning, I had little hope. I set my gym bag down next to the tree where my team had gathered, and I surveyed the field: typical -- stereotypical, even. The shining, muscular bodies glistened as they stretched and warmed-up. My own legs trembled in the cold as I passed the time by cheering on my own teammates, but it wasn’t long before I heard the ominous “Last call for the 100 meters! Last call!” intoned into a megaphone. Gulping hard, I walked over to the starting line and surveyed the track in front of me. I wondered if the practicing I had done since freshman year, exhausting my body with repeats, conditioning, and weight-training every day, would have any benefit when my shoes hit the pavement.

My competitors seemed to be doing their best to intimidate me. The seven of them jumped up and down around me, towering into the sky and stretching their formidable leg muscles. I pulled off my warm-ups, and the cool air on my exposed skin made me shiver.

The next fifteen seconds seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. When I was finished, I barely remembered running the race at all, and was only convinced that I actually did when my coach congratulated me on a third place finish. I had come in just slightly above the middle of the pack, despite genetics, despite everything. I realized that sprinting had nothing to do with being African-American or Chinese-American. My medal, which I received later that day, was embossed with a winged shoe. That’s the best thing about shoes: no matter who you are, you can always put on the same pair as anyone else.

点评：

文章没有太多的修饰，基本是以描述一个故事的形式来叙述自己的经历！

写ESSAY本身就不是在进行作文大赛，它更多希望通过描述真实的经历来体现一种觉悟。当然，学校希望看到一个与众不同的经历，不管是出于新鲜好奇的心理还是出于对申请者的经历考察，都有一个需要就是，要与众不同！

作者运动员的身份正给了他很好地展示自己的机会，而特别是100米短跑的特点，讲求爆发力，而中国运动员在这方面的过去确实让人有点泄气，这除了有先天条件外，从作者最后的感悟可以反推出来，一定程度上信息也是一个重要的原因：如果你觉得你自己行，那么你很可能行；如果你觉得你不行，那么你很可能不行。

短暂的十几秒钟，可以出现一个也许会改变作者命运的感悟，而这一切不仅仅基于作者坚持比赛的勇气，而在背后更能看出作者付出的汗水。作者强调一点是天性，黑人天生有那种优越性，而强调这一点，最后自己还是轻松超越超过一半的对手，这正暗示给读者自己背后经过了不少汗水的洗礼才拥有这样的能力！

付出+坚持=收获！

译文：

中国的短跑手

中国人不是（天生的）短跑手。

每年在奥林匹克运动会上都有代表中国的跳水和体操项目，而且我们也参加了许多其它的运动。但是，短跑这一疏漏一直以来都存在，不管是在国内还是国际上的比赛中。中国人不跑。

因此，在加入团队的第二年我感到有些失望。

在我大一期间参加的每场比赛都有一个共同点，那就是跑的最快的总是非裔美国人。他们那又细又长的腿站在那里和我那双遗传的又短又小的腿形成了鲜明的对比。每次看着我的腿，我都想，我根本不是练短跑的料。

那个星期六，当我妈妈把我送到GHAR高中时（比赛进行的场地），我几乎绝望了。队伍集合了，我把我的体育袋放在树边，环视四周。我看见由于热身，那些泛光的健壮的身体闪着光。而我的腿在我为队友们喝彩的同时开始冰冷发抖。但是这种状态并没有持续很久，我听到预告“最后一次。一百米赛跑。最后一次。”从喇叭里传出来。我艰难的走近起跑线，看着面前的跑道。我不知道之前在大一时的锻炼，一切的几乎使我筋疲力尽的重复、训练、重量训练，是否能对现在的比赛有所帮助。

我的对手们看起来都要尽全力来超过我。他们中的7个人在我周围跳起又落下的，在空中伸展他们那令人望而生畏的大腿肌肉。我做了热身，但周围的空气却让我冷的发抖。

接下来的十五秒就好像是一眨眼的事。比赛结束的时候，我几乎忘记了我是在参加比赛，知道最后有人来祝贺我的时候我才相信：我成功了。尽管遗传条件不好，但是我很轻松的超过了其他选手的一半。我明白了，短跑其实与基因与种族毫无关系。那天我得到的奖章上面印了一双带翅膀的鞋子。我想对这双鞋子最好的诠释就是：不管你是谁，都可以穿上一双与别人一样鞋。