Johns Hopkins University - B.S. in Biology
Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Spinning tires, crunching gravel, whirling chains, and a personal animosity towards a two-wheeled devil.
I begrudgingly looked upon the monstrosity before me. It glared back. The sparkly tassels at the end of its bruised rubber handlebars swung like a ponytail, lackadaisically mocking me. The black metal sloped and pointed to the nylon seat attached to the end. Come sit— you know you have to. I resentfully obeyed, and with three badminton racquets, two plastic bags stuffed with gym clothes, and a sack full of textbooks all strapped onto a seventh grader’s tiny frame, began my route to school.
I biked to school everyday. For background, cycling is not typical of my city, Fremont, where Teslas are more ubiquitous than trees (thank you for that, Elon). I envied the others that would speed past me in what I saw as the ultimate lap of luxury (a 66 inch foam car seat was the throne I could never have). I lamented over my luck; my parents’ work schedules denied me the comforts of this four-wheeled paradise. I understood, but I still felt ashamed to tape Google Maps printouts on my handlebars and consistently strut into first period with tousled hair.
The twenty minutes it took to bike did not pass easily. I had not mastered the art of no-handed cycling, so reading books or writing poems were not viable ways of passing time. To counter the tedium of the unchanging daily scenery, I counted how many cracks I saw in the pavement and breaths I took between traffic signals. I memorized the morning routines of people I always spotted (the brick house man was always caught retrieving his morning paper clothed in a flouncy purple nightgown) and remembered each front yard’s grass height on my way.
Over time, however, the scope of my thought widened until I began contemplating insane theoreticals and burgeoning fantasies. If Merlin was really so magical, why did he have to convince a giant to build Stonehenge for him? Why is the 2022 FIFA World Cup going to take place in Qatar despite the blatant human rights issues? The same scenery that once bored me became prompts for poetry and the people I glimpsed in their neighborhoods spurred imaginary comedy skits: the purple paper man was actually Dumbledore masquerading as a muggle! Each day, I picked up where I had left off in my theorizing, ruminating, and storytelling as the pavement flew underneath me.
Without warning, a badminton injury during freshman year left me unable to bike for a month. My parents took me to school. Initially, I exulted— my middle school dream of riding to school in luxury would finally come true. However, when I enclosed myself within the thick metal doors, I felt numbed— stripped of sensory experience. What I had sought after for so long failed to satisfy. I instead yearned to escape the glass box that immured me, precluding me from experiencing the solemnizing wind through my hair and feeling my own two feet sustaining my journey. I realized I had fallen in love with my daily meditative ritual. As soon as I healed, I zealously returned to my modest rolling throne.
As the wheels beneath my feet spun faster, so did the wheels in my mind, fueling violent torrents of thought that perpetually enthralled me. The sensation of powering myself through space and using that energy to power my thought was unparalleled. My mind raced voraciously through prototypes for sustainable self-cleaning chimneys and pondered over Confucius’ disputes. The intellectual curiosity I developed both fuels my academic endeavors and provides endless entertainment when I am alone.
What I cherish most is the mind and the freedom of the mind to go anywhere. My bike takes me to places; my mind takes me to exponentially more places.
So if there are currently wheels beneath your chair, I urge you—move them.
