I used to love to watch my high school track team train — especially the long-distance runners. But that year, my eyes were drawn to a girl whose running style was all wrong. She ran with her arms tucked（塞进） close to her body, bouncing（蹦） up and down in a way that must have driven her coaches crazy. My athletic mind laughed at her strange style, and I began to think of her as “the Bouncer”。
In early May, my high school hosted a big sports meeting. A large group of athletes joined in the two-mile running race — including the Bouncer. As the race progressed, she quickly fell far behind the pack and every runner lapped her at least once before it was over. But she just kept running, arms tucked close to her body, bouncing up and down — and always wearing the same smile.
“That poor kid,” I thought. “There was nothing to be gained by finishing so far behind the pack. Why didn’t she just give up?” Still, she never stopped, and her smile never changed.
But a short while later, something strange began to happen. As she entered the home stretch（终点直道）， a cheer began to rise, growing louder with each step the Bouncer took toward the finish line until, finally, every person in the stands stood and cheered as if thefate（命运） of the whole race depended on this one lone girl, bouncing toward the finish line.
The Bouncer just continued to run exactly as she’d been doing from the beginning. As she crossed the finish line, the teacher walked out onto the track and held her arms tightly.
I’ve seen hundreds of races since that day, and I’ve seen thousands of runners cross the finish line. But I’ve never seen anything that showed the true spirit of victory（胜利） as I watched on that warm spring day so long ago, when I saw a race won by a girl I had laughingly called the Bouncer.