【推荐1】When people ask me how I started writing, I find myself describing an urgent need that I felt to work with language. Having said that, I did not know for a long time what I was looking for. It was not until I followed this feeling to its source that I discovered I had a passion for writing. With some encouragement from my colleagues, I had one of my poems published. This bit of success, however, was the point where my problem began.

Back in 1978, I had to travel between three different campuses in the morning, teaching freshman composition. Afternoons I spent taking my daughter to her ballet and horse-riding lessons. T composed my lectures on the way, and that was all the thinking time I had. When I returned home, there was not enough of me left for writing after a full working day.

As a way out, decided to get up two hours before my usual time. My alarm was set for 5:00 A.M. The first day I shut it off because I had placed it within arm’s reach. The second day I set two clocks, one on my night table, and one out in the hallway. I had to jump out of bed and run to silence it before my family was awoken. This was when my morning writing began.

Since that first morning in 1978, I have been following the habit to this day, not making or accepting many excuses for not writing. I wrote my poems in this manner for nearly ten years before my first book was published. When I decided to write a novel, I divided my two hours: the first for poetry, the second for fiction. Well or badly, I wrote at least two pages a day. This is how my novel, The Line of the Sun, was finished. If I had waited to have the time, I would still be waiting to write my novel.

What I got out of getting up in the dark to work is the feeling that I am in control. For many people, the initial sense of urgency to create easily dies away because it requires making the tough decision: taking the time to create, stealing it from yourself if it's the only way.

【推荐2】As Dr. Pedro Jose grows older, he keeps setting his goals higher. He believes people in every walk of life need to constantly stretch for new challenges. His daily juggling act is extremely demanding. He’s a doctor, professor, and volunteer medical director of Saint John Clinic for undocumented immigrants. He still pushes on continuing to publicize his agenda in the media and serving on numerous boards and foundations.

In 2002, Jose was named chairman of the board of the Hispanic Heritage Awards Foundation. The awards recognize Hispanics who make important contributions to life in America.

Jose believes the stories of Hispanic accomplishments can inspire all Americans. He adds, most important, the scholarships are offered by the foundation. Only two-thirds of Hispanics graduate from high school. To help others, you must be able to help yourself, and that begins with education.

Jose has received no shortage of honors of his own, including the prestigious MacArthur Fellowship and the Presidential Service Award. In 1994, Time magazine named him one of the nation’s 50 top leaders under the age of 40. And Hispanic magazine named him Hispanic of the Year in 2002. Jose’s autobiography, Waking Up in America, is now being made into a TV movie, starring Andy Garcia.

Jose’s fervent hope is that the movie will help change people’s attitudes about the homeless. He hopes it will show that beyond the hard label are human beings — people who did not choose to be poor. Homeless people have needs and feelings that are no different from anyone else’s. They need help, not judgment.

Most of all, though, Jose hopes that people will begin to realize the power they have to change things. There should never be another man in Bed 9, who died without anyone even knowing his name. There should never be another Giles Woodson, the man who was burned to death on the streets of Miami.

“As a nation, what makes us great is our individuality. But what makes us truly powerful is when we work together,” says Jose. “If people put their minds to it, this kind of suffering can be solved.”

【推荐3】In November 2020, Stephanie Morton announced her retirement. The then 29-year-old athlete’s exit was a blow to the Australian Olympic program. “This decision wasn’t made lightly. Eight months ago, I had such an idea, and thankfully I had the support of the Australian Cycling Team throughout the whole process, along with my family and close friends,” said Morton.

Born in Adelaide, Morton stood out as an athlete throughout her childhood even though in a different sport. She grew up in a badminton-mad family. Her father coached the South Australian team, and her mother was its manager. It just so happened that when Morton was 15, her uncle suggested she test her power output on an exercise bike. “I always say cycling picked me. I didn’t pick cycling,” Morton said.

Morton joined the national program midway through the reign(任期)of Anna Meares, who won a medal at every Olympics between 2004 and 2016. It was an unusual relationship—Meares was Morton’s coach, teammate and opponent.

In 2010 Morton took on the role as Tandem Pilot for the cyclist Felicity Johnson, with the combination winning three world titles across 2011 and 2012, followed by one gold medal at the London 2012 Paralympic Games. In 2014, Morton beat Meares for the first time at the national track championships. The same year, Morton won one gold medal and one silver medal at the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow. But it was after the 2016 Rio Olympics, a disappointing overall campaign for the Australian track team, that Morton really began to shine. Two silver medals at the 2017 World Champions were followed by three gold medals at the 2018 Commonwealth Games.

Compared with the number of deaths from the global epidemic, the retirement of an athlete might not seem significant. For Morton, the next stage of her life now begins. The cyclist has studied criminal justice part-time throughout her cycling career and has previously shown an intention to join the police. Morton said, “I want to be an active and positive role model.”

【推荐1】Mt. Everest is no longer an inaccessible giant. More than 4,000 people have stood on the world’s highest peak since 1953. Last year alone, more than 650 people made it to the top.

But as the crowds have grown, so too has the list of stories coming from the mountain: long lines over train, and conflict over the value of Sherpas.

For people who want a more drama-free climbing experience, the globe is filled with other peaks worth tackling.

There are literally 13 other mountains over 8,000 meters and some get virtually no attention. They are very challenging mountains that would be an equal feather in someone’s hat to climb with many routes still to be discovered, unlike Everest. Mountains taller than 8,000 meters (more than 26,000 feet) are rare and exceptionally challenging to climb, purely for the lack of oxygen at such height. Above 8,000 m, it becomes so difficult to breathers that climbers call it the “death zone.”

The Himalayas contain all 14 of the world’s 8,000 meter-plus peaks, which are among Nepal, China, India and Pakistan. Among those, Everest is not only the tallest. It’s also accessible by hiking for about a week and a half after flying into Lukla.

From there, the mountain is loaded with equipment, including a cell phone tower and Sherpas who fix ropes for Western climbers. That makes the climb far less technical than it otherwise would be.

Why Do People Keep Climbing Mt. Everest? “It’s certainly not the easiest climb because of the height,” said Alan Amette, a mountaineer and Everest blogger in Fort Collins, Colo. “I hate the word ‘easy’ for any 8,000-meter mountain. A better word is achievable. Everest is achievable.”

One emerging alternative to Everest is K2, the world’s second tallest mountain — at 8,611 m (28,251 feet) to Everest’s 8,848 m (29,029 feet). But for every four or so people who have summited K2, one person has died trying, Amette said, for a total of 300 successful climbs and 81 deaths.

On Everest, by comparison, the ratio of successes to deaths is about 24 to one with more than 6,000 summits and about 250 deaths. K2 is a “loose” mountain with lots of rock fall and avalanche (雪崩) activity, Amette said. Its main route also goes up the east side, making climbers get affected by incoming storms.

【推荐2】Colorado’s grays peak rises 14,278 feet above sea level, high enough that trees can’t grow toward the top, though there are plenty of shrubs and rocks. It was in this unforgiving landform that Bev Wedelstedt was unlucky enough to get seriously injured in her left knee.

It was August 2018, and Wedelstedt, 56, was on her way back down the trail with three friends. A storm was brewing, and they were anxious to get off the mountain. When they approached a rocky drop of a couple of feet, Wedelstedt decided to leap. She landed on her left leg. Then she heard the snap. Every step after that was agony (剧痛). Before long, she had to stop. As one friend ran down to get help, a number of other hikers, all strangers, attempted to help Wedelstedt down the narrow trail by walking on either side of her to support her weight, but that proved slow and dangerous. “One man was so close to the edge that I could see rocks falling down from where he stepped on them.” Wedelstedt says.

Finally, one hiker, Matt, asked her, “How do you feel about a fireman’s carry?” Before she knew it, he had lifted her over his shoulder. “Now, I’m not tiny,” says Wedelstedt, a former college basketball star. Matt clearly couldn’t carry her all the way down by himself. So six hikers and one of her friends took turns carrying her while she tried to make light of a difficult situation: “I told them I wanted to meet a lot of guys, but this isn’t the way I wanted to do it.” Three hours and two rock-strewn miles later, this human conveyor belt finally met the medics, who took Wedelstedt to the hospital.

She stayed in hospital for a period time. Now she has mostly recovered from her ill-fated hike, but Wedelstedt knows she’ll never shake one thing from that day: the memory of the band of strangers who came to her rescue. “I’m still in awe.”

【推荐3】The Water Angel

Even if you’ve never been to Phoenix, you know this about the place: it’s hot. From June to September, the temperature can easily turn the earth into a boiler.     1    . Signs warn that the trail is “extremely difficult”. If you continue, a posted checklist suggests at least a liter of water per person. And if you’re still unaware of the danger, another sign farther up declares: “If you’re halfway through your water, turn around!”

    2     Fortunately, Scott Cullymore pays attention. When he’s not running his carpet-cleaning company in nearby Mesa, the 53-year-old Cullymore can be found hiking up and down the mountain a couple of times a day, giving out cold bottles of water to worn-out hikers. He has helped hydrate so many hikers that he has earned a heavenly nickname: the WaterAngel. “I’d like a more manly name, but, you know,” he told azfamily.com.

Cullymore was on the mountain one day in 2015 when a British tourist died after being lost for nearly six hours in the July heat.     3    .“The mountain is usually underestimated and people may get themselves in trouble,” he told the Arizona Republic. If a hiker has a flushed face and is not sweating anymore, Cullymore says he reaches into his insulated(隔热的) orange backpack, pulls out a frosty bottle, and hands it to the person. “It’s misleading that we’re in the middle of the city. You can die up here, and no one will know.”

    4    . “You think you know the heat, but then you get out here in the desert and it surrounds you like a blanket,” said Austin Hill, who was hiking with a high school friend. They were lucky, he said, pointing to Cullymore. “We ran into this Water Angel here,” who went on to search for another hiker in need.