During the summer before Patty entered fifth grade, she decided to try a new sport. Swim training was nearly over and Patty was the fastest swimmer in her age group. She had always been the best. The neighborhood was offering a one-week tennis training course. Patty and her friend Darla got permission from their parents to join.

On Saturday morning, Darla’s mom took the girls to a store and bought them each a good, used tennis racket. “If you girls stick to tennis, then we’ll talk about a new racket. These will do for now.” The girls were excited about their new purchases. On Monday morning, at 7:00 a.m., Patty’s mom woke her up. “It’s time for tennis!” Patty covered her face. “Mom, it’s too early!” She made great effort to get out of bed and down to the breakfast table. Patty finished breakfast and ran to Darla’s house, then they walked to the court.

Mrs. Cane, the tennis coach, lined everyone up and started with the basics. After that, Mrs. Cane tirelessly taught them to practice their forehand and backhand. By the end of the week, Patty had made impressive progress. Mrs. Cane commented that Patty had lots of potential. Darla, on the other hand, was struggling. The other teenagers were having a tough time of it, too. Patty was the only one who seemed to get somewhere.

Since then, Darla had always been out in the August heat, practicing her serves or hitting the ball. Patty wasn’t really interested. She felt she was such a “natural” for tennis that she really didn’t need to practice. By the end of the summer, Darla began to get the hang of it. She joined a neighborhood junior tennis team. There would be matches every Thursday. Patty wanted to join as well, but she didn’t want to miss her favorite TV show. She told herself that she would join it when she got some free time. If Darla had fun, she would join the team in the spring.

The week before school started, Mrs. Cane held another training course.

Patty couldn’t stop thinking of her poor performance on the way home.

Last fall, I came up with a good idea to tell my friend Melanie that she and I should enter a backcountry ski mountaineering race. The mountain is 40 miles from Crested Butte to Aspen, Colorado, and it required us to race as a team. Neither of us had ever done a ski race, but we’d always been good partners on mountain bikes, so I thought we’d be well-matched in the ski race, too.

However, on our first long training day together, Melanie dropped me again and again. As she disappeared out of sight on our last climb, I complained to myself, “Why had I come up with this stupid idea? Why wasn’t she waiting?” When I finally caught up, Melanie asked, “Are you OK?” I opened my mouth to respond and — oh, no — tears (眼泪) began running down my face. I felt sad and embarrassed. Crying was a behavior I connected with myself as a beginner who did most often in the years when I was learning to mountain bike. Seeing this, Melanie said with motherly concern, “I think you peed to have a rest and eat something.”

She was right. Rest and sugar improved my mood. Finally, we began going down the mountain together and we joked about my tears. In the days that followed, we kept training hard for the race day.

Despite the difficult start to our training, on race day, Melanie and I proved to be a good pair. The race began at midnight, and for six hours we schussed (直线滑降) together as a team through the darkness. But as the sun began to rise, we found ourselves pushing as hard as we could to make it to Star Pass, the high point of the race, by the important 7 am. Unluckily, we lost the race because we were 2 minutes late.

A painful block formed in my throat (喉咙).

After a few minutes, I felt less sad.

“Jordi, wake up!” my father calls in the hallway.

I quickly get up and pull on the uniform for our team. All my life, I’ve watched my parents compete. But I will participate in the human pyramid building for the first time today!

When we get there, the town square is already crowded. While we wait for our turn to compete, my friend Tomeu comes to stand with me. He and his family are also part of our team. Tomeu has competed before.

“What if I’m not ready for this, Tomeu?” I ask.

“We are never ready, Jordi. None of us who compete in the human pyramid building knows for sure how it will go,” he says and gestures toward the pyramid going up in front of us. “Just like those people, you must have faith in those below who lift you up, and you must trust yourself.”

I nod my head to show that I understand. I will do my best to follow his advice.

Soon, it is our turn. I gather with my team in the center of the square and turn my attention to the task at hand.

We must first make the base for our pyramid. My father and three of the strongest men stand in a circle facing each other as they hold tightly to each other’s arms. Four more strong men step behind, each holding his arms around the chest of a man and giving him a bear hug. Then as many as fifty more men and women crowd behind them and begin pushing on their backs to keep them tightly together. Four smaller men climb onto the backs of the original base group and stand on their shoulders. They then grab onto each other’s arms and hold firmly, creating a strong second level. I can see that my father’s face is red as he works hard to be strong for the person on his shoulders. Our pyramid is growing taller and taller and eventually it is my turn to climb to the top of the pyramid and stand on my mother’s shoulders.

Climbing up the first two levels is easy.

“Focus. Balance,” My mother whispers to me.

It was cool and bright and just right for running. I was in the first few miles of a 10-mile race through some hills. Birds were singing on the trees. The soft wind was brushing my cheeks. I felt rested and springy. Despite the hills, I thought it was going to be a fine run.

Ahead was Blake, a student from Burke High School. He was running easily, too, moving along efficiently. The pace felt comfortable, so I decided to stay where he was; why bother concentrating on pace when Blake was such a nice pacesetter for me? I would overtake Blake later on when he used up energy.

So I ran closely behind him. The course headed north for five miles, wandered west for a mile, and then turned south again. The race was getting tougher. With three miles to go, it was beginning to be real hard work. My lungs were on fire, and legs felt like stone.

Blake overtook the boy in front of him. Apparently he knew the boy, for they exchanged a few words. Their brief communication worried me. Runners don’t chat during a race unless they feel really good, and Blake plainly was. There was still a noticeable bounce in his steps, but the springiness I had once possessed was gone.

Still, I was close enough to overtake Blake if he was tired, so I didn’t give up hope completely. We were approaching a hill, a mile from the finish line, so whatever happened on the hill would almost certainly determine who crossed it first.

As I moved up the hill, my attention wandered for a few minutes. When I looked up, Blake was moving away, first five yards, then ten, then more. There was no hope of catching Blake.

Suddenly Blake slowed and sat onto the ground painfully.

A reporter took a picture of this moving scene and posted it online.

Emma was very excited Today was the championship baseball game! The winners would all get trophies(奖杯) and be the number one players in the town. Emma decided to bring home a trophy to put on her shelf. She had never won a trophy before.

She put on her red uniform and pulled her hair through the back of her baseball cap. She picked up her gloves and looked in the mirror. “I hope I get a hit today,” she said to herself.

On the way to the field, Emma felt nervous.

“Are you feeling OK, Emma?” her mother asked.

“I really don’t want to strike out(三击不中出局),” Emma said.

“Just keep your eye on the ball and don’t feel afraid. You can do it,” Emma’s mother said.

Emma was a great hitter in practice, but she had never hit a ball during a game. She always struck out.

When the game started, Emma cheered loudly for her friends. She caught a fly ball in the Outfield, and everyone cheered for her. Emma struck out when it was her turn to hit the ball, but her team was doing well.

The game was tied(平局), and it was her team’s last chance to score. The team’s coach encouraged, “Believe in yourselves, and you are the best.” Frankie was up first, and he hit the ball hard to get on base(垒). Next up was Henry, but he struck out. Kara hit the ball, but she was tagged out at first base. Frankie was able to run to third. That meant he could score and win the game if the next batter(击球手) got a good hit. Emma was the team’s last hope.

Emma stepped up to the base.

Emma’s team won!