Every first, every milestone in life, even being born, for that matter- imagine

having someone right by your side through all of it, not just for you but with you. This
concept may impel the image of a parental or even spiritual figure in the minds of many,
however in this context I refer to the only kind of person who had the opportunity to be
by my side since before I was even born- literally. I am typically prompted by others with
the curiosity of what its like to be a twin, and while I dont exactly have experience
with the contrary, I am undeniably content with everything that accompanies the role of
this position.
Growing up, I always knew one person going through relatively similar occasions
at exactly the same time in her life, and others recognized it too. On the first day of
kindergarten in a small, private Catholic school we dressed alike and sat together,
hence the slight hesitation among people before swapping our names, unable to
dissociate the two of us. Together we engaged in piano lessons, art classes, soccer
games- but in order for my twin and I to participate in recurring recreational activities,
there was expected to exist absolute agreement between us prior to even signing up for
them. Despite our comfort in these simple moments, the move from a Chicago suburb
to a small Texas city offered us no alternative to leaving familiarity behind and accepting
the ineluctable adaption from one of the coldest areas in the United States to a region
notorious for its heat. Still, we had each other. To further this regional variation, visits to
Guadalajara, Mexico every summer served to engrave our childhood memories with
new perspectives as my sister and I were the anomalous two in a group of strictly male
cousins- eight in total. Learning spanish from a very young age and being associated
with a Mexican heritage exposed us to a different culture altogether- a culture resonant
with soccer, mariachis, faith, and, most importantly, family.
However, comparisons inevitably ensue upon the realization that we are a pair,
duplicates in a sense, or at least according to the eyes of the rest of the world- because
the only thing that separated us was that one minute. Whos the smart one? Whos
more athletic? Which one is musically talented? As if there were supposed to be a
designated trait or ability solely assigned to one of us and absolutely unidentifiable in
the other. The truth is, distinction is a concept that is often obscured between twins, and
while it may seem as if I have been alluding to a lack of idiosyncrasy between my twin
and I, we have found ourselves to become increasingly individualized through each
minute. The depiction of my sister and I side by side evoked a contrast between us that
put into effect a strive for conspicuous variability. While she pursued musical ambitions
throughout the later years of childhood, my interests began to diverge towards a
fascination in psychology, track and field, and artistic expression, thus drifting in terms
of friends groups as well.
While we have yet to experience the so-called twin telepathy frequently
imagined by others, the rich reciprocity in our unique relationship has led me to adopt
what I believe to be the best representation of myself through the avoidance of self
comparisons. I have learned that even in the face of immense similarity, what
determines the potential alignment of ones future is what they personally choose to
make of every experience. After all, I was raised with the exposure to variety even
simply within my immediate family- the ideas of a Mexican mother and an American
father, a brother who is older by a year and finally my sister who is only younger by a
minute.
Track and field? Sure why not, Ive run a mile before, how hard can it be?

I misconstrued my coach's advice to avoid physical exertion the day before the
first seventh-grade track meet as permission to completely wing it. The next evening,
following the blank firing of the starting gun for the 1600 meter competition, I rushed to
the front of the group of athletes, determined to make an impression of skill. A few
minutes later, however, I realized that my presumptuous surmise concerning my
abilities proved to be highly disingenuous, for my overconfidence quickly became weary
regret after my mind agreed with my aching legs that I should quit three laps into the
race. Exhausted, humiliated, and lacking grit, this occasion induced me into quitting
track and field altogether that year, and I attributed the personal defeat to a supposed
lack of endurance.
The successive year, I was encouraged to join the sport once again- after all, a
year had been a sufficient amount of time to temporarily omit this prior memory from
existence- and I was humbly prepared to accept a new challenge. Practices became
more enjoyable with my newfound willingness to work hard as this time I was enticed to
an entirely different kind of events I proved to be more naturally suited for. When the
crucial day of districts arrived, however, after hastily passing the cherished baton to the
second member in the 400m relay, I looked up less than a minute later only to see our
fourth leg cross the finish line in last place. I dismally came to terms with the realization
that one of my teammates had dropped the baton- a detrimental misfortune as this
occurrence transformed a fifty meter lead into a devastating defeat. With extreme
disappointment, I believed this to be my last chance to earn a gold medal in track,
because doing so in high school would be impossible due to such escalated
competition. Despite this pronounced resignation, I now embrace memories of crossing
the finish line with nothing but track and triumph ahead.
My point is not that I would consider running a great talent of mine, because
frankly, there are many athletic individuals who can prove superiority in such regards.
Nevertheless, through it, I recognized perseverance as an imperative catalyst for
improvement. The refusal to give up regardless of the accompanying difficulties is a
cognitive skill that has taken me through the journey of quitting the mile mid-lap in
seventh grade, dropping the baton in an eighth-grade relay, and later false-starting in an
individual race at the beginning of my athletic career of high school. I have identified an
intriguing reflection of my life in the simple concept of running fast. Powerful starts off of
blocks, consistent handoffs with a teammate and a baton, and the speed and adrenaline
associated with sprinting down straightaways has provided me with an unparalleled
sensation manifesting the lessons of a strong start in any task, the importance of
collaboration, and giving 100% effort, respectively. Above all the sport has taught me
about mentality; an adopted optimism that has lead me to surpass odds that have been
previously thought unimaginable, not just in the athletic aspect. Thus, I would consider
my dedicated persistence a prominent talent of mine, as such an identity has
encouraged me to find a positive in every experience.
The word talent has a connotation closely associated with the act of impression
or something to show off. But of what use is any skill or ability if it is derived solely from
a superficial passion to glorify an individual or provide a group of people entertainment?
Talents should be used to better the world, whether through a massive impact or simply
making someone smile, as I learned when competing to improve not for vanity and
glory, but toward a greater good.