2月8日

谷愛凌秀出1620高難度動(dòng)作

奪得自由式滑雪女子大跳臺(tái)金牌

金牌拿到手軟、SAT1580、高中提前一年畢業(yè)，2020年斯坦福早申錄取。關(guān)于冬奧冠軍谷愛凌的故事相信大家都已經(jīng)刷屏一天了。

今天全網(wǎng)都在扒谷愛凌的家庭背景，很少有人關(guān)注她自己的成長(zhǎng)。家世如何，那些都是外在賦予的，大多數(shù)留學(xué)生家庭也都非常富裕，甚至比她還要好一些，但我們又是如何堅(jiān)持自己的熱愛的呢？

谷愛凌近日還在在美國(guó)知名媒體《紐約時(shí)報(bào)》上發(fā)布了一篇親筆長(zhǎng)文，以一位青年女運(yùn)動(dòng)員的視角講述了她在從事極限運(yùn)動(dòng)時(shí)“與恐懼打交道”的心路歷程。我們一起來感受下學(xué)霸的英文寫作水平。

Essay by Eileen Gu

FOR THE LAST 10 OF MY 18 YEARS, I’ve pursued a tumultuous love affair with fear. I’m a professional freeskier, and twin-tipped skis, 22-foot halfpipes and double-cork rotations are my main sources of adrenaline, the truly addictive core of extreme sports.

Like all bewitching lovers (at least the ones in the novels I read, for lack of real-world experience), this significant other can be … mercurial. “Fear” is really an umbrella term for three distinct sensations: excitement, uncertainty, and pressure. I’ve learned that the nuanced indicators of each of these feelings can be instrumental to success when recognized and positively leveraged, and harbingers of injury when ignored.

Though it’s easy to label extreme sport athletes as fearless or capricious, the countless hours I’ve spent visualizing tricks and practicing them in foam pits (foam. particles. everywhere) and on airbags (think giant Slip ’N Slide) suggest otherwise. It’s biologically counterintuitive for us to place ourselves in positions of risk, and while we make every effort to physically prepare, no amount of metaphorically safety-netted practice can equate to the unforgiving snow slope that rushes up to meet us after a steep kicker launches us into the air. Instead of ignoring fear, we build unique relationships with it by developing a profound sense of self-awareness and making deliberate risk assessments.

The work begins with visualization. Before I attempt a new trick, I feel a tightening high in my chest, between the base of my throat and the top of my diaphragm. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. As I ascend the gargantuan takeoff ramp, I imagine extending my legs to maximize lift. Then I picture twisting my upper body in the opposite direction I intend to spin, generating torque before I allow it to snap back the other way.

Now, in my mind, I’m airborne. I see the backside of the takeoff immediately, then my flip draws my vision to the cloudless sky above me. My ears register the wind as a kind of song, every 360-degree rotation providing the beat to the music of my motion. As my feet come under me halfway through, I spot the landing for the briefest of moments before I pull my body into the second flip. I imagine my legs swinging under me as I return to a forward-facing position and meet the ground with my weight in the front of my boots. 1440 degrees. I smile. Then I open my eyes.

In the split second following my visualization, the knot in my chest flutters and spreads — those famous butterflies reaching their final stage of metamorphosis. Excitement, the child of adrenaline, my true love and addiction. That tantalizingly precarious balance between confidence in my ability to execute the trick safely and excitement for the unpredictable experience to come. I’ve heard this state called “the zone,” which is indeed where I was when I became the first female skier in history to land the double cork 1440 last fall.

It doesn’t take much, unfortunately, for uncertainty to override confidence. Imperfect preparation moistens my palms, pushes that tight spot down into my stomach and makes each breath shallower than the last. The feeling isn’t panic, but something like dread. Danger! cries every evolutionary instinct. If I should choose to look past this safety mechanism, my body may act autonomously in the air, twisting out of the rotation and forcing me to brace for impact out of fear that full commitment to the trick may end in disaster. Every freeskier’s goal is to recognize the minute differences between excitement and uncertainty in order to maximize performance while minimizing the risk of injury.

Finally, there’s pressure, an energy source that can be wielded in many ways. One’s experience of pressure — by far the most subjective facet of “fear” — is affected by personal experiences and perspectives. Expectations of family and friends, a competitive streak, or even sponsorship opportunities can provide the scaffolding for a high-pressure environment. Pressure can be a positive force for competitors who leverage it to rise to the occasion, but it can also single-handedly dictate competitive failure.

But whether athletes alleviate or compound their innate desire to “prove themselves” depends largely on confidence. As I enter my early adulthood, I’m proud of the work I’ve done to cope with pressure by bolstering my self-esteem and minimizing my need for external validation. I focus on gratitude, perspective, and on the joy this sport brings me, regardless of whether I’m alone or in front of a worldwide TV audience. Though my views of myself and the world are constantly evolving, one thing is for certain: no matter how much time passes, I’ll always be a hopeless romantic when it comes to fear.

中文版

我承認(rèn)，我愛上了恐懼

在我迄今18年人生的后10年里，我一直在追尋著的是一種紛亂的、充滿恐懼的愛。我是一名專業(yè)的自由式滑雪運(yùn)動(dòng)員，腳上的一雙雪板、22英尺長(zhǎng)的u型池和各種特技動(dòng)作是我腎上腺素的主要來源，是也極限運(yùn)動(dòng)中真正令人上癮的核心要素。

正如所有那些能迷倒常人的戀人一樣（至少是像我從小說中讀到的那些一樣，因?yàn)楝F(xiàn)實(shí)生活中我還缺乏相應(yīng)的經(jīng)驗(yàn)），你這個(gè)重要的另一半有時(shí)可能會(huì)很……反復(fù)無常。實(shí)際上，“恐懼”可以算是三種不同感覺的總稱，那就是興奮、不確定和壓力。我已經(jīng)發(fā)現(xiàn)，如果這些感覺能被識(shí)別和積極地利用，那么每一種感覺中都有一些微妙的指標(biāo)可以幫助你成功，而如果其原理被忽視，那么這些感覺可能就會(huì)是你受傷的前兆。

雖然從事極限運(yùn)動(dòng)的運(yùn)動(dòng)員很容易被貼上“無畏”或“任性”的標(biāo)簽，但無論是我為構(gòu)思技巧而花費(fèi)的無數(shù)個(gè)小時(shí)，還是在泡沫坑(泡沫粒子到處都是的那種)里和安全氣囊上度過的無數(shù)時(shí)間都可以表明情況并非如此。我們要違反自己的生物直覺，把自己置于風(fēng)險(xiǎn)之中。雖然我們會(huì)盡一切努力做好身體上的準(zhǔn)備，但再多的安全網(wǎng)模擬訓(xùn)練也無法等同于我們從陡坡上起飛、把身體拋到空中并即將落地時(shí)所將面對(duì)的雪坡，它是不會(huì)講情面的。我們并非無視恐懼，而是要培養(yǎng)深刻的自我意識(shí)，并進(jìn)行深思熟慮的風(fēng)險(xiǎn)評(píng)估，從而與恐懼建立起獨(dú)特的關(guān)系。

這項(xiàng)工作的第一步叫做具象化：在我嘗試一個(gè)新的技巧動(dòng)作之前，我會(huì)感到胸腔（準(zhǔn)確地說，是在我的喉嚨底部和膈肌頂部之間）有一種緊張感。我深吸一口氣，閉上眼睛。當(dāng)我爬上巨大的起飛坡道時(shí)，我會(huì)在想象中伸展我的雙腿以最大限度地提高升力。然后，我要在腦海中描繪如何以相反的方向扭轉(zhuǎn)我的上半身，產(chǎn)生扭矩，然后再讓它朝另一個(gè)方向彈回來。

現(xiàn)在，在我的意識(shí)里，我已經(jīng)是飛在空中的狀態(tài)了。我在躍起后第一時(shí)間就會(huì)看到自己的背后，然后身體旋轉(zhuǎn)會(huì)把我的視線拽向頭頂萬里無云的天空。風(fēng)聲如同我耳朵里的一種音樂，每一個(gè)360度的旋轉(zhuǎn)都在為我的運(yùn)動(dòng)提供音樂般的節(jié)拍。當(dāng)我的腳在我的身體下面時(shí)，我就可以在把身體拉到第二個(gè)空翻前的一瞬間發(fā)現(xiàn)最終落地的地點(diǎn)。當(dāng)我回到可以面向前方的位置時(shí)，我會(huì)想象著我的腿在我的腳下擺動(dòng)，并讓雪鞋的前端承載著我的重量碰到地面。我露出微笑，然后睜開眼睛，一個(gè)1440度的翻轉(zhuǎn)動(dòng)作就完成了。

在完成“具象化”的幾秒之后，我胸腔中的緊迫感會(huì)有一陣上下的波動(dòng)，然后開始擴(kuò)散——這個(gè)時(shí)候，我們已經(jīng)來到破繭成蝶的關(guān)鍵階段。興奮感是腎上腺素的產(chǎn)物，也是我所酷愛和著迷的存在。我既有著對(duì)自己安全創(chuàng)造奇跡的信心，也會(huì)產(chǎn)生對(duì)即將到來的不可預(yù)知體驗(yàn)的興奮感，二者的平衡非常不穩(wěn)定。我聽說這個(gè)狀態(tài)可以被稱為“入境（zone）”，去年秋天，當(dāng)我成為歷史上第一個(gè)完成1440度偏軸轉(zhuǎn)體動(dòng)作的的女性雙板滑雪運(yùn)動(dòng)員時(shí)，我就曾體會(huì)過這樣的心境。

不幸的是，你心中的不確定感往往很容易就會(huì)壓倒自信心。不完美的準(zhǔn)備會(huì)使我的手心出汗，并使得我之前所說的那個(gè)感到緊張的位置被轉(zhuǎn)移到自己的胃里，從而使你的每次呼吸都比上一次更淺。這種感覺不是恐慌，而是某種類似于畏懼的感覺。危險(xiǎn)的信號(hào)會(huì)激發(fā)出進(jìn)化的本能。如果我選擇忽略這個(gè)安全機(jī)制，我的身體可能會(huì)在空中不由自主地行動(dòng)，旋轉(zhuǎn)會(huì)失去控制，并迫使我為即將遭受的沖擊做好準(zhǔn)備，因?yàn)檫@個(gè)時(shí)候的我真的要恐懼了：如果完全投入這個(gè)動(dòng)作，可能會(huì)產(chǎn)生災(zāi)難性的后果。每個(gè)自由式滑雪運(yùn)動(dòng)員都要以識(shí)別出興奮感和不確定感之間的細(xì)微差別為目標(biāo)，以便在最大限度地發(fā)揮能力的同時(shí)，把受傷的風(fēng)險(xiǎn)減少到最小。

不過，對(duì)于這種埋藏在心底的、渴望“證明自己”的感覺，運(yùn)動(dòng)員既可能會(huì)選擇壓制它，也可能選擇強(qiáng)化它，而這很大程度上要取決于他們的自信心。作為一個(gè)剛剛成年的女運(yùn)動(dòng)員，我對(duì)于這方面還是很有些自豪的，我可以增強(qiáng)自己的自尊，并盡量減少自己對(duì)于外界期待的需求，從而控制我身邊的壓力。無論孤身一人還是面向整個(gè)世界，我都專注于感恩當(dāng)下、判斷當(dāng)下，并享受體育帶給我的快樂。雖說我個(gè)人和這個(gè)世界的視角總會(huì)隨著時(shí)間的推移而演變，但有一件事是不會(huì)變的：無論時(shí)間過了多久，在恐懼面前的我都會(huì)是一個(gè)無可救藥的浪漫主義者。