이 학생은 성적은 아주 우수했으나 다른 활동면에서 아주 큰 특색이 없었다. 그저 교회의 봉사활동만 열심히 했을 뿐 다른 두드러진 면은 없었다. 이렇게 학과목 이외에 특이한 사항이 없는 경우 아이비는 쉽지 않다. 아래처럼 에세이에서 특이한 취미(수정과)와 평범한 활동(크로스컨트리)을 엮어서 독특한 에세이로 어필을 해보려고 했지만 소용이 없었다. 이 예는 에세이 하나로 모든 것을 해결할 수 없다는 걸 보여주며, 일단 공부만 잘 하면 Top 10 리버럴 아츠 칼리지 (명문 단과대학) 또는 Top 20급 대학은 갈 수 있다는 걸 보여준다.
The familiar pungent smell fills my nostrils
as I peel and chop the unsightly root. As I add the freshly chopped ginger to a
pot of boiling water, I shake my head in wonder at the idea of this bitter root
being the main ingredient in my favorite Korean dessert drink, sujeonggwa.
It was the summer before sophomore year. At
my own discretion and at the advice of my counselor and parents, I made the
decision to quit soccer—the sport that had defined my life for the previous ten
years— and take up cross country running. This was wholly unexpected, as I had
spent most of freshman year wondering how anybody could enjoy the sport. I
thought it was for kids who couldn’t handle a real sport. There was no ball, no
goal, no net, no endzone; no real point except to run mindlessly for miles on
end. I didn’t join cross country because I thought I’d enjoy it. I only joined
because I was in reasonably good shape and wanted something to do after school.
I was sure I would hate it. The idea of
waking up with the sunrise and running three, four, eight, ten miles a day
sickened me. Cross country seemed to be just a long, boring, excruciating
experience, filled with misery, pain, and torment. Nevertheless, at seven
o’clock the next morning I was up and ready to run.
With
a practiced hand, I drop a handful of cinnamon sticks into the pot. A cup of
sugar follows quickly.
I soon noticed an unexpected change. The
more exhausted I became after running long distances, the more refreshed I was
the next day. I became livelier than I already was, more energetic. Instead of
waking up tired and groggy, I would get out of bed sore, but feeling surprisingly
rejuvenated.
I met one of my best friends running cross country.
Talking and laughing about everything from The Lord of the Rings to girls to
how miserable the sport was, we’d while away the long miles. Sometimes we would
break into raucous chorus, singing snatches of songs we knew, running in time
with the beat. Soon enough, I began to almost enjoy practice. Not that the
running was any easier. Cross country
was still a grueling sport, but the refreshing qualities of sustained exercise
and the friendships that developed through those long miles sweetened the
experience, made pain of endless miles a bit easier to bear.
I
smile appreciatively as the fragrant aroma of cinnamon and ginger fills the
room. I pull the stems off a few dried persimmons. A sweet fruit, the
persimmons must be allowed to steep overnight to allow its honeyed flavor to
permeate the drink.
It took hundreds of miles, but I finally
began to see the fruit of my labor. I ran mile after mile after mile and was
disappointed to see very little drop in my race times. Many miles and many
hours later, however, I began to note with pride that my pace was slowly but
surely improving. And gradually, I began to notice another effect, something
that didn’t affect just my running career but my life as a whole. In cross
country, unless you’re one of the fastest runners in the state (which I’m not),
you’re basically competing against yourself. The coach can yell all he wants,
but in the last 800 meters of the race, only you can push yourself beyond the
point of utter exhaustion to finish the race strong. The self-discipline and
the value of finishing strong I learned from running that last half mile began
to seep into the rest of my life.
This
wonderful Korean beverage, cold, but with a warm flavor, sweet, but with a
sharp kick, is a blend of perplexing opposites. And yet it all works. I never
thought cross country would be an experience I’d enjoy. And yet, as I sit, savoring
this traditional Korean beverage, I reflect that maybe in life, a little bit of
ginger is not such a bad deal after all.
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