I stood in line to sign up for the middle school track(田径)team. “Track isn't an sport.” the coach said. “Are you ready to practice hard every day?” “Oh, yes. I love running.” I replied. “Well, that's good,” the coach said.“ starts tomorrow after school.” I was a little nervous about running with mostly older students, but I decided to face my fear. “Welcome to the first day of practice.” the coach ordered everyone to the bottom of a sand hill. “Okay.”, he said, “This is the practice we'll do all season. You are going to run up and down the sand hill ten times as fast as you can. If you can't _it, move to the side.” We all lined up, legs ready. “Go！”the coach shouted, and we went. I considered myself a bit small but strong. Running up that hill, however, was harder than I had imagined it would be. The sand kept falling down under my feet and it was hard to keep balance(平衡). I tried my feet in deeper, but people kept passing me shouting “Look out!” and “Move off to the side!” “Don't cry,” I told myself as tears filled my eyes. I had to step aside. I went home from practice feeling like a(an) . That night my dad noticed sad face and asked what was wrong. The story came pouring out. Dad listened quietly and then asked, “How do you want to run?” “I really want to run,” I whispered through my tears. “Then, run,” he said. “Everyone will respect you if you don't stop and give all you have. I know how strong-mined you can be when you set your mind to it.” The next day the hill looked as hard as it had been the day before, but I had a new attitude and something to . “Go！” the coach shouted. Several older students ran by me as we started up the hill. I still fell in the sand, and I still wanted to leave every step of the way; but I kept slowly and progressively. When I reached the top, I gave a silent cheer and headed back down again. My dad was right. I won that day and became a part of the team. On my last time down, everyone clapped and cheered.
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