Personal Narrative Analysis

Growing up, I learned that my dad had a knack for figuring out other’s emotions. Once he realized someone wasn’t acting the same, he would quickly leap in with a headstrong attitude and charming smile, ready to make them laugh and feel better. He had a great sense of humor, with a slightly quirky way of seeing things, which led to very hilarious ideas. My father would get a twinkle in his green eyes, thinking of possible jokes he could say to lighten up the mood. He never once stopped to think about whether a person was too closed off, and he encouraged me to do the same as he did. He was always there for me and cared enough to get me to feel happier again.
About a week before I started middle school, my father and I were out on a walk, seeing …show more content…
I was really nervous because the last couple times I ran, I didn’t do nearly as well as I could have. In addition, I knew that all of my work I did this entire season was leading up to this last race, and I felt like I definitely couldn’t handle it. I was practically pacing on the stands when I noticed my father walking towards me. I jumped off the heavy, steel seats, and walked down the ramp, my eyes taking in the dark blue color of the track, and the sheer chaos of athletes all moving around in one, small area. He smiled and hugged me tightly, knowing how freaked out I was. My dad then told me what must have been the most motivational speech he ever said. He ended with a simple, “Katie, you’re a great runner, and I believe in you. You’re going to do great, okay?” I nodded once, and felt, a little surprised, a wave of determination flow through me. “You can do this,” I told myself. “Just breathe.” He walked away then, looking back once, to give me an encouraging smile. About twenty minutes later, the race was about to begin, the second-longest one ever, the one mile. Filling my lungs with air just as the gun went off, I ran the hardest and fastest race of my life. When I finished, I could barely breathe, too overcome by the fact that I had finally gotten my goal: to break a 7:00 mile. My time was 6:56. I slowly walked over to where my dad was, and simply said, “Thank you.” I knew that I could never have done that well without his support. My father was there for me whenever I needed him, and he proved over and over again just how well he knew me, and what he could do to

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