From an early age, Patti Wilson was told that she was an epileptic (癫痫患者). However, she was a lively and enthusiastic girl, looking at her illness as simply “an inconvenience”. She never focused on what she had lost, but on what she had left. One day, Patti said to her father, who was a morning jogger, “Daddy, I’d really love to run with you every day, but I’m afraid I’ll have an epileptic fit.”

Her father told her, “Don’t worry, my girl. I know how to handle it! Let’s start running then!”

It was a wonderful experience for the father and daughter to run together every day. After a few weeks, the ambitious girl told her father, “Daddy, What I’d really love to do is to break the world’s long-distance running record for women.” The father checked the Guinness Book of World Records and found that the farthest any woman had run was 80miles.

That year, she completed her run to San Francisco, which is a distance of 400 miles. She was wearing a T-shirt, reading, “I Love Epileptics”. Her father ran every mile at her side, and her mom, a nurse, followed in a motor home behind them in case anything went wrong. But nothing happened at all while she was running.

As a senior high school student, Patti announced that she was determined to run from her hometown up to the White House, which is a distance of more than 3000 miles away. Her classmates got behind her. They built a giant poster that read, “Run, Patti, Run!” This has since become her motto and the title of a book she later has written.

On her second marathon in Portland, she had her foot injured.

Half a year later, Patti ran in Washington and finally shook the hand of the President.

Chasing a Dream

I will never forget that November day. It was hotter than normal — too hot. My throat felt like a field of cotton, cracked with the summer heat, as I waited for the gun to fire. This was the day we had waited so long for. I looked out at the crowd; dozens of familiar faces flashed across my view. They had come for me. They were counting on me. I saw my dad set his watch, with worry and excitement on his face. Adrenaline (肾上腺素) pumped through my body, and the race began.

For the first two and a half miles, I felt great. I had never before been so ready for something. The weeks leading up to the race were filled with strictly controlled practices and a strict diet. My friends hadn’t seen me in weeks, but they understood the sacrifice required to make my dream a reality.

My dad and I had been working towards this race for three years. It was everything to me, and it was everything to my dad. He was a runner and was excited by my success in running. He made it to every race, even flying home early from business trips to see me run. I always listened for his voice — telling me to relax my arms, calling out my time. He pushed me. He cheered for me. He believed in me. We spent countless hours on the sandy canals. Breathing in the dust of the desert, the blossoms (花簇) of the orange trees, we made our way across the city. We pounded miles and miles into our running shoes, marking with every step the path to greatness.

But without warning, when I was 200 yards away from the finish line, my legs stopped working. My lungs fought to take in enough air, and my feet transformed into cement (水泥) bricks. I still don’t know what happened in those last few moments. Nothing I could do would make them hold my weight. They were as weak as jelly.

Even though I knew my dreams of victory were destroyed, I had to finish the race.

“I’m so sorry I disappointed you,” I whispered to Dad.

My dad and I had been looking forward to the Stale cross-country race of my senior year of high school, which would be the climax (顶点) of my existence.

I was the fastest runner on my team, and I was supposed to make it into the top fifteen. We had been working towards this race for three years. It was everything to me, and it was everything to my dad. He was a runner and was wild with joy by my success in running. He made it to every race, even flying home early from business trips to see me run. I always listened for his voice, which rang above the crowd-telling me to relax my arms, calling out my time. He pushed me. He cheered for me. He believed in me. We spent countless hours on the sandy canals of Arizona. Breathing in the dust of the desert, the blossoms of the orange trees, and the terrible smell of the dairy farm, we made our way across the city. We pounded miles and miles into our running shoes, marking with every step the path to greatness. It was a journey that was just ours. A dream passed on from one generation to the next.

Then the big day came. It was hotter than normal - too hot. My throat felt like a field of cotton, cracked with the summer heat, as I waited for the gun to fire. I gazed out at the crowd; dozens of familiar faces from church and school flickered across my view. They had come for me. They were counting on me. I saw my dad set his watch, worry and excitement etched across his face. With the sound of a gunshot, the race began.

For the first two and half miles, I felt great. I had never before been so ready for something. The weeks leading up to the race were filled with hard practices and a strict diet. The scorching sun beat upon my back, blinding me with its brilliance. Nothing was going to stop me, though.

However, without warning, my strength was running out.

I whispered, “I’m so sorry I disappointed you, Dad.”

An impossible peace

Once upon a time, on a piece of land there lived giants and dragons, who had been enemies for years on end. However, after years of bloody fights, they had learned a lot. They were no longer so foolish as to wage wars with terrible battles in which thousands died. Now, every year they held bowling matches instead. A giant competed against a dragon. Whoever lost would become the winner’s slave. If a dragon won, he could use the giant’s muscles for all that heavy lifting. If a giant won, he would have free flights and fire for the whole year.

That was how they prevented their deaths and yet with the match going round and round, they hated each other more and more. Every year the winners were so cruel to the losers, in revenge (报复) for the time they had lost. The losers would be at the mercy of the winners, giants tired from lifting loads while dragons worn out from constant flying and breathing fire. There came a time when what mattered most was not winning the bowling match, but not losing.

Yonk the Giant was the best bowler, and the most afraid. He had never lost. Many dragons had been his slaves and they were dying to see him lose so they could get their revenge. This was why Yonk was terrified of losing. Especially since last year’s match, when he missed his first ever strike, he had decided that something had to change.

The following year he won again. When he arrived home, his slave dragon feared the worst but Yonk did nothing bad to him, for he had a different idea in mind.

“This year you will not be my slave. We will go bowling and I will teach you all of my techniques and secrets. But you must promise me one thing: when you win your match next year, you will not be cruel to your giant. Do the same as I am doing with you.”

The dragon gladly accepted.

Much later Yonk lost his first bowling match but he was no longer afraid of losing.