原文作者：佚名
i can't complain， because i'm alive and walking， and that's more than was expected， honestly.
there's something strange about being a sixteen-year-old stroke2） survivor. i had the stroke when i was three weeks old， so people seem to think that it would have little bearing3） on my life now. and honestly， even the title "stroke survivor" feels weird to me. i don't remember being anything but the kid who had a stroke， so is there really a stroke-survivor title， or is that just a part of me？[论文网]
at sixteen， i am partially-blind， and i had trouble walking even at eight. being a kid it was almost impossible for me to actually understand； i didn't grasp the idea of not being able to run and play with other kids， and i didn't get why gravity seemed to constantly be pulling me to the ground and bruising4） my hands and tearing my clothes. then i resigned myself to5） sitting on the steps while other kids played. most of my time was spent reading a book or watching the sky.
the bright side to being somebody who spent every recess6） tearing through books and being as much of a philosopher as you can be even at six is that you learned things.
both fortunately and unfortunately， the fact that i couldn't walk also meant physical therapy. the unfortunate part came from my parents' decision to put me in a full-body sport， in other words， dance. i can't even begin to explain how disastrous7） this decision was， but predictably a girl who can barely walk can't walk any more easily when her movements are choreographed8） and she is wearing a pair of steel-toed tap shoes.
the fortunate part came later. when i was nine， they opted out of9） dance for gymnastics， and that is when my life changed. girls with streamlined figures pirouetted10） on their hands， flew and flipped and twirled with a blatant11） disregard for gravity， swung bar-to-bar like circus performers， and then took their beautiful flips and tumbles and twirls and put them on a four-foot-high， four-inch-wide beam. they ran at vaults12） with the intensity of creatures pursuing their prey， and then in an instant catapulted13） themselves into the air. they were superhuman.
finally i felt determined. i felt determined just like i'd felt determined to run with the kids on the playground. but it was even more intense than that： i truly， genuinely， felt like i needed this. i needed to be superhuman. i worked harder than the other kids， and still got fewer results. you can't tumble14） until you can run， and you can't run until you can walk.
that's just the obvious progression of things. but somehow， i got through it. there were some advantages to my situation： i'd fallen so much that i was extremely pain-tolerant， and unlike the others i felt like i had something huge to gain. i got through conditioning workouts without complaining. i li
stened to every criticism. i shied away from15） sympathy. i learned to walk. then to run. then to tumble.
last year i attained my peak. after all that time， i reached one of the highest levels of gymnastics. this meant that i'd earned the right to travel and compete， and even wore an expensive leotard16）， matching my teammates and looked up to by the young kids.
although it wasn't my first year competing， it was the most intense. i knew it might be my last， too； my body had learned the sport， but my heart was growing tired of it. you can only be so committed before your heart gives way， and i'd given up too much of mine at the start. my goal was met and surpassed： i was walking. screw that， i was flying！
the final and greatest opportunities were to compete in hawaii， and to compete one last time in a state championship. i took third all-around in hawaii， and took first on beam at state. the girl who couldn't walk took first on beam. pigs can fly and the blind can see and i can not only walk but also win beam.
after a summer of aggravation17）， i quit. i hardly felt like i'd won anything anymore. i was done flying. i was grateful and amazed， but i was ready to go.
i am sixteen years old. i am partially blind， and i had trouble walking when i was eight. i will never be like everyone else. my left side is weaker than my right， and i walk with a limp even after all of my training. i forget things constantly， and part of me wonders if this is from my stroke. i don't tell most of my friends i had a stroke； they might never look at me the same way again.
but here's the reality： i can't complain. i had a stroke， but i defied the odds. i proved every doctor wrong， and i did it with style.
我不能抱怨，因为我还活着，还能走路。WWW.11665.cOM说实话，这已经比预期的情况好多了。
作为一个16岁的中风幸存者，总会有一些古怪的地方。我是在出生三周时得的中风，所以人们似乎觉得这对我现在的生活应该已经没什么影响了。老实说，连“中风幸存者”这个称号都让我觉得怪异。在我的记忆里，我根本就只是个患过中风的小孩，而不是别的什么。那“中风幸存者”这种叫法真的存在吗？还是只是属于我的一部分？
现在我16岁，眼睛半盲，甚至我在八岁时连走路都很困难。孩提时代的我几乎不可能真正理解这些事情；我不知道自己不能奔跑，不能和其他小孩一起玩，我也不明白为什么地心引力似乎老是不停地把我拽倒在地，擦伤我的手，刮破我的衣服。后来我只好在其他小孩玩耍的时候坐在台阶上。大多数时候，我都在看书或是仰望天空。
每次课间我都在翻书，哪怕只有六岁，我也尽可能像一个哲学家那样去思考，这样做的好处就是我学到了东西。
既幸运又不幸的是，我不能走路就意味着我需要进行物理治疗。之所以说不幸，是因为我父母决定让我参与一种全身运动，换个说法，就是跳舞。我甚至不知如何开口解释这个决定有多么要命，但可以预见的是，一个几乎不能走路的女孩要穿上一双鞋底钉有铁片的踢踏舞鞋，还得做出编排好的舞蹈动作时，她不可能会走得更轻松。
幸运的那一面来得稍晚一些。我九岁时，我的父母决定不再让我学舞蹈，转而让我学体操。就在那时，我的生活发生了改变。有着优美身体曲线的女孩们手翻、空翻、转体，完全无视重力的影响，像马戏团演员一样在单双杠间荡来荡去，然后随着优美的弹跳、翻转和旋转，落在一根距地四英尺、宽四英寸的平衡木上。她们如动物捕猎一般猛地冲向跳马器械，然后在瞬间将自己弹射到空中。她们就是超人。
最后我下定了决心，就像当初决意要和小孩子们一起在操场上奔跑一样意志坚定，甚至决心比那还要强：我真真正正地觉得自己需要这个。我需要成为那样的超人。我付出了比其他孩子们更多的努力，却仍然没什么成效。不会走路，你就无法奔跑，而不会奔跑，你就无法翻筋斗。
这只是一个显而易见的事物发展进程。但不知怎的，我挺了过来。就我的个人情况而言，我有些优势：我以前摔倒过太多次了，所以我忍受痛苦的能力极强，而且与其他人不同，我觉得我可以从中收获很多。我毫无怨言地完成体能训练。我认真听取每一次批评。我避开别人的同情。我学会了走路，然后学会了奔跑，再然后是翻筋斗。
去年，我达到了自己的巅峰。在经过这么长时间之后，我终于跻身水平最高的体操运动员之列。这意味着我获得了出去比赛的资格，还可以身穿昂贵的体操紧身服，和我的队友们一样漂亮，并受到孩子们的崇拜。
虽然那不是我第一年参加比赛，但却是竞争最激烈的一年。我也知道这可能是我最后一年参赛，因为我的身体虽然
学会了这项运动，但是我的心却逐渐对它产生了厌倦。你只有在内心屈服之前才能够如此拼命，而我在一开始时就付出了太多心力。我实现了自己的目标，并远远超出了目标：我能够走路了。去他的，我是在飞！
我最后也是最大的两次机会是去夏威夷参加的比赛以及仅参加了一次的州锦标赛。我在夏威夷的比赛中拿到了全能第三名，在州锦标赛中夺得了平衡木项目的冠军。那个不能走路的女孩在平衡木比赛中拿到了冠军。猪能飞上天，盲人能看见，而我不仅可以走路，而且还在平衡木比赛中获胜了。
在经历病情加重的一个夏天以后，我退出了。我觉得自己不会再赢得什么了。我已飞翔过。我心怀感激，惊叹不已，但我做好了离开的准备。
我现在16岁。我的眼睛半盲。在我八岁时，我连走路都很困难。我将永远不可能跟其他人一样。我的左半边身体比右半边虚弱，即使在进行了这么多训练之后，我走路仍会一瘸一拐。我经常忘记事情，我的内心有一部分怀疑这是否是中风的后遗症。我和我的大多数朋友都没说过我中过风，不然他们可能就再也不会用现在的眼光来看我。
但这就是现实：我不能抱怨。我得过中风，但是我挑战了这种逆境。我向所有医生证明他们都错了，我战胜了这种逆境，而且做得很好。
1. defy [d??fa?] vt. 挑战；反抗
2. stroke [str??k] n. 中风
3. bearing [?be?r??] n. 关联，影响
4. bruise [bru?z] vt. 碰伤
5. resign oneself to： 听任……顺从……
6. recess [r??ses] n. <美> （学校的）假期，课间休息
7. disastrous [d??zɑ?str?s] adj. 灾难性的
8. choreograph [?k?ri?ɡrɑ?f] vt. 设计舞蹈动作
9. opt out of： 决定退出；决定不参加。opt [?pt] vi. 选择；做出抉择
10. pirouette [?p?ru?et] vi. 作快速旋转
11. blatant [?ble?tnt] adj. 极明显的
12. vault [v??lt] n. 跳马器械
13. catapult [?k?t?p?lt] vt. 用弹射器发射
14. tumble [?t?mbl] vi. 翻筋斗
15. shy away from： 躲开，避开
16. leotard [?li??tɑ?d] n. （杂技或舞蹈演员穿的）紧身连衣裤
17. aggravation [??ɡr??ve??n] n. （病情等）加重
