To the right, you should see an image of people walking in the rain. This picture is from a previous Boston Marathon. Please select a person from the photograph and write 15-20 sentences from your perspective. Make sure to use the FIVE SENSES to describe you and your surroundings. Think about the temperature outside, the water in your sneakers, and the mix of water and sweat on your clothing. You want your reader to feel like he or she is a part of the picture. Please use at least five different types of sentence constructions that we reviewed last class. Please post your response below.
21 comments:
So I’m walking in a Boston marathon and seeing all the people that are here makes me feel good because knowing I’m not the only one that cares to walk for a good cause. I’m noticing that it is raining out so I have to wear this weird feeling trash bag type thing so I don’t get soaking wet. I see everyone is wearing them. The rain is really cold with the wind that is blowing around. It smells like a spring day out side with the trees and the mix of rain. I can also smell a little sweat because of everyone walking/running the marathon. Well for taste every time I can get a cup of water walking it is so delectable. But I cant taste anything else.
I am wearing a black jacket and am holding an umbrella. I am also holding an orange track bag. I am looking to the right. It is raining. I have extra protection from the rain. I have a hat and also an umbrella. But this umbrella is starting to make my arms hurt from carrying it all day. I have a lot of stuff in my hands. I wish that I didn't have this many things to carry especially since I am participating in the Boston Marathon. I wish it was cooler and not raining. There is a lot of people around me. There is a lot of people that are participating in the Boston Marathon today. I'm glad that a lot people are coming out today for a good cause. My legs are starting to get cold too. It is raining and a little windy. Why did I wear white sneakers? O yeah, these are the only sneakers that I own. I wish I had a different kind of sneaker because this was a bad idea of wearing white sneakers in the rain and in the grass....Hey, I wonder when this is going to be over. I am getting hungry!..
It is 7 in the morning and I am running in the Boston marathon. It is about 48 degrees and I can feel the cold wind agianst my back. I've been running for 1 hour and I am feeling really worn out. My windbreaker is yellow, I feel as it's a positive color. I can feel the wet grass squishing beneath my running sneakers. I can even semll the grass comming of the ground, it has a distinct smell between freshly cut grass and wet earth. I was smart, I chose to wear plastic rain pants. I am fully prepared for the rain. I can feel the rain grow stronger and beat down on my cold, wet body. I can taste a mix of sweat and water running down my moist lips into my mouth. I can feel every limb in my body become limp. The fact that I'm holding this big adidas bag isn't helping much. I knew I should have left it at the beginning. I can hear the strong breathing of the other runners next to me. I know that my pace is steady and that I'm not going to have to speed up until the end. This race is much harder than I thought it was going to be, I'm wearing out quickly.
The feel of sticky sweat on my body very much disgusted me. The smell of rain, my favorite smell, was the only thing that encouraged me onward. My dry mouth craved a bottle of water to quench my seemingly everlasting thirst. The muddy ground, tired muscles, and still knowing we had a long way to go severely discouraged many people. That thunder could clap and lightning could strike made many people nervous. I soon learned that the combination of humid air and sweaty bodies I could live without. The completely undeniable burning sensation in my legs never ceased. For miles ahead all I could see was people, running people, tired people, dedicated people, and determined people. My ears took in the sound of mud squishing under shoes and the encouraging voices that seemed ubiquitous. Willing myself forward was the only thing that kept me going. Wet and fatigued, I trudged onward. My hope having been diminished by the wretched conditions, I considered giving up. Adjacent to me, my wife is beginning to think the same thing. That I was raising money for cancer research made me realize how much I needed to complete this walk. The closer I get to the finish line, the more proud I am.
I walked for my mother. I walked for my sister. I walked for me. I walked in the sun, the wind and the snow. But today I waked in the rain for 60 miles. 3 days of walking and talking about our mothers or sisters, even their brothers wives sister or mother. My feet are wet and cold, but I walk on. I’m in shorts and I’m freezing my butt off, and yet I walk on. The air smells of rain and dirt, and my legs are covered in droplets of water and splashed with mud. But I still walk on. I hear people talking and crying, they talk of the happy and sad times. But they walk on. This walk is the most important part of everyone’s life. WE WALK ON!
Rainy and wet, I do not feel either one. I am covered in a raincoat and plastic bags. I am also wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a hat and these really thick warm socks. Feeling wet is not one of my favorite things if you could tell. When I look around I hear how others say they are all wet and cold. Their legs shaking, their bodies shivering. Had they been more prepared, they would have been warm and dry like me. To accomplish this marathon will be the best achievement in the world. Painfully, Happily, I walk towards the finish line. This has been the longest walk I have ever done. I am proud of the fact that I decided to do this. But just thinking about the smell of a hot and tasty cooked meal makes me want to finish this marathon quicker. Moving faster. Feet sore. Legs trembling. We are almost done now; getting closer to the finish line.
The ground is wet and muddy as i walk across it. My shoes are sinking into it and i can feel the squishy mess beneath me. The grass is like wet moss. In some spots, it is like walking into a pit of jello. As i walk, i can hear the ponchos and trash bags ruffling around me. water drips from my nose into my mouth, as the wind blows water into my face. I'm getting so sick of walking in this cold rain. I can't even believe some people are wearing shorts, it's so cold. My black sweatpants feel very nice, sheilding me from the wind and rain. I am sort of sweaty though. Although i am cold,along with the rest of the runners, the air smells of determination. I am going to keep going, no matter how unhappy i am.
It keeps raining. I didn’t sign up for this. I signed up to set a record at the Boston Marathon, not this. The cold rain beats down on the hood of my plastic yellow poncho. It amplifies the already loud rain, and with each drop, it gets louder. To stay warm, I am forced to wear a trash bag over my clothes. But I can’t stand the smell. I’m warm, but emanate the stench of stale sweat and wet dog, and I am once again forced to be trapped inside. Before the race even begins, the rain is pouring down. It made the grass soggy and overflowing with water. With each step, the rain comes into my shoes; I have to make it stop. Grocery bags from a dollar store were the best I could do. Tied around my ankles, they “squish, squoshed” with every step I took. I can barely take it. This race is driving me insane, and it hasn’t even started yet.
To distract myself, I project my thoughts outward. Everyone, even bystanders, is soaked, head to toe. A sense of miserable is painted on their faces. None of us were prepared for this. My being distracted didn’t last long. My attention is drawn to my legs that are freezing in the rain, which makes them colder and wetter with every one of my steps. Now, I can’t help but be disgusted; I can now taste my own stale sweat. It is almost indescribable, but this disturbing taste makes me want to vomit. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I want to stop, now.
My clothes are sticking to my skin. A mix of sweat and rain is pouring down my face and into my eyes. With every step I take, I can hear a loud squishing noise from the water that has accumulated in my shoes. I look around, jealously, at the other people that have raincoats and umbrellas to keep the cold rain away from them. Shivering, I try to keep my arms close to me. I can feel cold water running down my spine. I’m mad at myself for not watching the weather this morning and therefore putting on shorts. I still have half of a mile to go, but I feel like I’m at my end. My legs are shaking and weak. They can give away any minute. The cheering voices of the spectators are fading into the rain. All I can hear is the rain dribbling onto the ground. There are puddles everywhere, but I don’t care anymore, I am already soaked. The water has soaked the ground, and my legs are covered in mud. All I want is to go home, put on comfortable clothes, and go to bed. I roughly brush my wet hair out of my face, determined. I can’t give up now; I almost made it to the finish line. Putting aside my fatigue, I pull myself together. Ignoring the cold, ignoring the pain, and ignoring the wet, I start sprinting towards the finish line that just came to sight. With my legs aching horribly I take one last step into the finish and I collapse.
I was at the Boston Marathon last week on Monday. It started out as a pretty nice day.
The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze. The weather had said that it was supposed to rain in the afternoon, but I didn’t think it was going to anymore because the weather was just too nice. It was spring time, and the smell of trees, flowers, and the grass all mixed together to give the air that spring time smell. The grass was soft brushing up against my hands and legs I sat there. It felt as if there was a blanket underneath me. As I looked up at the sky, I noticed that there were a few clouds rolling in.
That’s when it started. A few rain drops started to hit my skin. More and more clouds started to come, making the sky black as night. Then, all the rain you could imagined started rushing down, making everyone quickly get up, grabbing their things, and running to get somewhere dry. People had bought ponchos earlier in the day, just in case it had rained. I bought one too. It was orange, my least favorite color. People around me had their shoes covered with plastic bags so their shoes wouldn’t get wet, but I of course didn’t. Every step my shoes would squish, squeezing water out of them and taking more in. The air now had the musty smell of rain. People were slipping while running in the now muddy grass. The poncho was sticking to me as more and more rain came down. My once nice day at the Boston Marathon, was now a rainy, muddy day.
Rainy and damp, my legs start to shake. I am covered with an orange rain jacket and a windbreaker which makes my body feel hot and sticky. The smell of the muddy grass made my eyes to water. Walking to the starting line, I feel anxious and warm inside. Had the weather been colder, I would’ve been satisfied. I look at others all drenched and soggy on this gloomy day. I hear others complaining about how cold and soaked they are on this day. Some of the runners wore poor clothes but I prepared for this day. To be a good runner, you need to be motivated and inspired. Because it seems so hard to run in, I am ready to compete against thousands of people. All I’m thinking about right now is how I am going to manage to run 26 miles on this cold and weary day. My feet feel numb and my throat feels dry. I can't believe I am doing this.
I’m trying to push through this down pour of rain as it pummels against my body. I grasp to my umbrella in hope that it will protect me from the painful rain. My socks are now soaked through and my sneakers are covered in mud. Water is running down my legs and my shorts or dripping. I feel so cold and wet that I’m shivering and my teeth chatter. Within my mouth I taste a biter cool moss type taste. Its tastes almost as if I am eating the muddy moldy air. The air is thick and smells like dew and the sweat of all runners surrounding me. I see endless amounts of people ahead of and behind me. The sounds of people chatting amongst themselves and encouraging each other to keep pushing through are heard. I’ m trying to carry my belongs all in a medium sized bright orange bag, as are others. Everyone around me wears ponchos which help protect them from the rain, and I’m becoming green with envy. My umbrella is protecting me form the rain coming from above but the rain which the wind pulls toward me hurts painfully.
It was a cold groggy day, and I decided to walk in the Boston Marathon for the first time. What was I thinking? I honestly think that I am not built to walk a marathon, with my jelly-filled legs and the constant wheezing. My yellow poncho flapped in the wind while my black trash bag skirt clung to my weak legs as I walked. My adidas bag became heavier with every step I took. The rain was drizzling down upon everyone’s faces. I heard the constant footsteps pounding into the muddy grass. I became disgusted with myself as I felt and smelled my sweat mix with the rain. My hair felt repulsive as it stuck to my forehead and face when it whipped with the wind. I started shivering, chattering my teeth. The only thing that is keeping going is my determination to help with the cause, and to feel the accomplishment that everyone else will feel at the end of this marathon. Oh, my legs ache so much, like you have no idea. Water slowly leaked into my sneakers and soaked through my socks, I’ll have smelly feet tonight. I guess the white shopping bags over my sneaker did not work at all.
I’m here at my annual watching of the Boston Marathon. I love the atmosphere of the people who don’t run but love to watch it. You can feel the energy on the sideline. The weather is gloomy today as I stand watching. I can feel the rain hitting my head and soaking into my hair. As I move around, I can feel it sinking deeper into my shoes, soaking my whole sock and foot. I turn around and notice people walking closer to the race. They are wearing trash bags on their feet and body. They are probably smart in doing that, keeping warm and dry under the bags. I do notice one man in the back of the crowd who is not wearing a trash bag. He’s just wearing a jacket and shorts. I think he is crazy for this as he must be soaked from the rain.
As I run on the muddy wet grass in my yellow, sticky, drenched, uncomfortable poncho all I can think about is completing this long, difficult, torturous race. I feel suffocated in plastic and every step I take the more uncomfortable I feel. My poncho keeps riding up and I can’t stop thinking about how frustrating it is, but my motivation keeps me running. I can hear people breathing behind me determined to pass me, but I won’t and can’t let it happen. All I can think about is how the air reeks of sweat and how extremely repulsive it is. The feeling of sweat dripping down my back, sticking to my clothes and poncho is extremely irritating. The rain is Unbearably cold and the wind won't stop swaying me from side to side. My body feels ice cold and my lips won’t stop quivering. The thought of quitting keeps running through my mind but I fear I will let my family and fans down, so I keep going. My mouth has a horrible, disgusting taste in it and it is beyond dry, but I can’t risk getting my water out of my bag for fear that it might give someone the chance to pass me. My body keeps telling me to quit but my competitiveness won’t allow me to. I stop thinking about how miserable I am and begin to think about the sense of accomplishment I’m going to feel when I complete this horrible race. I can just picture how proud my family is going to be and the excitement I’m going to feel. Finally, after suffering more than I ever have before, I began approaching the finish line and it’s relieving to know that I will soon conquer a huge obstacle.
I was on the 19 mile. There had already been a downpour so my clothes were soaked. My shoes were squishy from sogginess. And I could here them squish everytime I would make a step. My eyes were glazing over from all the water that kept dripping from my hair. I was cold and I could hear the runner next to me getting tired. i coulde tell by the panting noise that was coming off of his lips. We only had 7 more to go so that wasnt so bad i just had to think of something positive. Think about getting across the finish line a winner. I could smell the dampness in the air. And could feel the water on my tongue as i ran it was refreshing. It reminded me of the cold water against my lips. And tongue and reminded me that i needed to hurry up and finish this race so i could.I could feel my pace quickening my pulse was getting fasteer my energy was being restored. Who thought that just thinking of drinking water could make my brain so excited.
Wet and cold, the rain beats down into my face. I scrunch my nose and try to ward off the painful chill that spreads over my face. I feel as if I have been walking for hours, but I know that this is only the beginning. All around me I can hear the pattering of footsteps as they sink into the wet, muddy earth. My windbreaker slides against itself, swish, swish--creating a monotonous rhythm. My feet feel heavy in the puddle ridden earth, sinking deeper with each step. The rain is cold against my bare hands, one of the only parts uncovered. The drops slide down my skin, one after another. I can smell the wet, matted grass, a smell that I have never been fond of. All I can see is rain and blurs of windbreakers. I know that everybody feels like I do, wet and cold and raw. Licking my lips, I taste the cold, refreshing moisture. I reach up to wipe it off, but I know that the rain will not cease and it is no use.I pull my jacket tighter, trying to hold in some warmth. But all the warmth is gone, washed away by the incessant storm.
It's early in the morning and I am running in the Boston Marathon. The excitement is slowly fading as the weather is horrible. Everyone is wrapped in warm clothes and raincoats as a means to protect themselves from the incessant rainfall. My clothes are sticking to me, drenched in both sweat and rain. It is freezing outside and I am trying to do anything to keep my body from shaking. My sneakers are soaked and they squish in the mud. All I can smell is fresh rain. This is supposed to be an exciting experience but everyone looks sad yet determined to finish and get out of the rain. I must keep going, too.
Brianna Cote
WHAT UP
It is early in the morning. The marathon just began. The rain is falling so hard that I can barely see what is in front of me. The harsh winds are blowing my jacket all over the place. I am cold. My toes feel like they are going to freeze, but I keep going because I need to finish this race, for me, and for my family. When I woke up today I decided to wear yellow. I like to wear yellow because it is my favorite color. I have bags covering my sneakers to keep the mud off of my sneakers and to make the rain less wet. All I can smell is wet grass and every step I make is into this mushy ground. Slowly, effectively I am progressing to the finish line. Under my feet, I feel myself sinking into the ground. I am making an effort to finish on time, but it is difficult. I am challenging myself. I am sweating so much, but no one notices because the rain falling on my face hides the fact that I am struggling to complete this. I just want this to be over. I just want to finish this marathon.
OKAY MS MIKELS
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