My heart pounded to the beat of my feet racing over the hard ground. Sweat dripped my forehead to all my back. Thrilling with the delicious rush of wind past my face, I let my mind wander. That was the first time I played soccer.
Coming to the U.S one year ago gave me a chance to redefine my ultimate limit: physical condition. I could be proud of being a good and active student. However, my friends in Vietnam always made fun of my nerdy, clumsy look whenever I tried to play sport. Instead of humiliation, “If you want it, you can do it,” my Americans friends would talk about sport with such inspiration. I joined the soccer team with excitement, but it was harder than I ever imagined. I didn’t know how to kick the ball, or have them kicked into my face. Always out of breath just as other players were ready to speed up, I felt like I was pulling the whole team down. Maybe I want it, I just cannot do it.
Half way finishing the 2-mile soccer conditioning, I felt a terrible weight on my legs as if a giant boulder laid on me and I couldn't straighten up to catch my breath entirely.: “Push it...,” my lips whispered but my mind screamed, my lungs strained, and my throat ached for air, more air. Nothing in lives came easy. I’ve come too far to give up. My muscles stretched, pushed harder. My breaths were short and shallow, my skin burned, my nose was red and my eyes itched with salt. The angry pitter-patter of the soles of my shoes hit the finish line.
“Phuong! You made it!” –