For as long as her parents can remember, 11-year-old Breana Carsey has had this crazy dream. She has always wanted a mommy horse who would give birth to a baby horse, who would then grow up to become a racing champion.
“Absolutely, this was a fairy tale for her from day one. We put it off for five years because we don’t have a farm,” said her father, Brian Carsey, who explained that his daughter has “me wrapped around her finger”．
Her horse was born in the spring of 2013. Breana named it MJB Got Faith for the faith she instantly had in him.
“I really loved him. He’s super soft too,” she said.
But that quick bond posed a real problem for this Dad. See, for whatever reason, Brian thought once he explained to his daughter that her horse could never run in a race—that it was a runt from poor breeding stock—she would just agree to sell it.
“She thought her horse was priceless,” he said. “So I had a chat with my wife and we really got ourselves in a mess here. And I didn’t know how we were going to get out of this. So we took him to the races, the horse that I thought we should have got rid of already.”
Brian was stuck, committed to boarding and training this long shot to end all long shots. And this is not a wealthy family. Brian runs a small company. And Ohio racing, which is harness style racing, is a $900 millionayear industry.
MJB Got Faith was so slow that it was barely even qualified to compete but then somehow won his first race, then his second, third and fourth qualifying him for the state championship held in Columbus, Ohio.
“And I said to my daughter, ‘If you finish third, you should be so thankful,’” Brian remembered. “She said, ‘Daddy, if he finishes last, I’m going to be thankful. But he’s going to win.’”
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This little horse won an important match.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Her dad now has a racehorse whose name is Steve Hartman.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________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.
注意：1. 所续写短文的词数应为150左右；
2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
However, without warning, my strength was running out.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I whispered, “I’m so sorry I disappointed you, Dad.”
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