Does my PS do the job? Forum

[Anonymous User]

Criticism is welcome. I feel like this essay is a good writing sample, but I am concerned that it does not do everything that a personal statement should. Let me know what you think.

“Wake up, big guy. These 14 miles aren’t going to run themselves,” I whispered to my roommate. He jolted upright, and frantically checked his TIMEX. It read 5:31 am, Saturday, January 18th. In the silence of our darkened dorm room, we could hear frozen rain tapping at the window. We both took a deep breath and jointly let out a heavy sigh; close friends communicate most effectively without words. We were buffeted by the frigid wind as we shuffled out of the dorm. Its invigorating bite woke us up. I knew that across campus, my teammates were doing the same. We were compelled by the mystique of shared suffering, the esprit of a tacit covenant. Our shoulders slouched and our heads hung as we marched like stubborn animals toward the Men’s Cross Country Locker Room.

Our team inherited the locker room from the Women’s Soccer team. However, the door was never repainted. Instead, the administration scratched out the extraneous letters from “Women’s Soccer” so that the door now read “men’s cc” in awkward, off-center, lower case letters. It was typical of the shrewd, cost-saving maneuvers to which our team had grown accustomed. We are a partially funded, non-scholarship cross country team, the only one of its kind in the Southeastern Conference. On the other side of the door, I could hear the weather report issuing from our broken projection T.V. The T.V.’s picture had gone out months ago. Now it only transmitted sound. We affectionately referred to it as our “radio.” We adapted to operating with scarce resources. Today was no different.

I swung open the door to find several excited freshmen huddled around a collection of boxes. A knowing grin spread across my face—protein shakes. Deliveries of protein shakes were an anomalous occurrence and a fleeting luxury. Historically, they are unpacked, stocked in our communal refrigerator, consumed in a feverish free-for-all, and (much to our chagrin) completely exhausted by midseason. As I watched my teammates tear into the boxes I could see the tragic cycle repeating itself. I decided it was time for a lesson in economic game theory. I switched off the radio and raised my voice to address the team:

“Listen up fellas, we’ve been treating these protein shakes like common property. We’ve been jointly consuming from a shared endowment. The shakes never last more than a few weeks because there is no incentive to save. No one is willing to curb their consumption because of the rational expectation that someone else will come along and drink the surplus. It’s time we introduce some private property into this locker room. There are twenty four boxes here. I say we allocate two boxes to each person, then we each consume from our private endowment at our own discretion.”

I could see the rumination in my teammates’ eyes as they turned the proposal in their minds. They slowly nodded their heads in unanimous consent. The moment was trivial yet profound. I overturned a pernicious historical precedent, and it was deeply gratifying. We immediately realized the implications of the new arrangement. Shakes could now be traded for other goods, sold for cash, or stored for later use. This new marketplace would allow us to allocate our scarce commodity more efficiently. We glowed with the satisfaction of our newfound autonomy as we each secured two boxes in our locker. Adam Smith would have been proud.

Our excitement waned, however, as we remembered why we were in the locker room to begin with. The mood was somber as we dressed, piling on tights, hats, long sleeve shirts, and tube socks to keep the hands warm. By 6:30 a.m., we were running. We ran in a close pack. Our frozen breath trailed behind us like the steam of a locomotive engine. Sleet pelted our faces and numbed our lips. We ran in silence. We couldn’t speak without slurring our words into an incomprehensible moan. As we crested a rolling hill, a TIMEX beeped. One mile. Thirteen to go. The team released a collective sigh.

[MT Cicero]

I'll try to read over it, but a quick tip: help everyone out by putting line breaks in your PS so it's easier on the eyes. I'd go ahead and edit it and put a space between each paragraph.

[Anonymous User]

Thanks for the heads up. I put some breaks in.

[Penguin515]

I think it is a good start. I would perhaps try to cut down on the vivid descriptions and focus more on the upshot (the incident in which you altered your team's collective mindset and challenged an existing precedent. Also, try to focus more on your self given that it is a personal statement. Maybe say how it influenced you and helped you mature/improve? Just my .02 cents. Nice to get an early start though.

[Anonymous User]

Thanks, I also feel it is a little heavy on the description and the that I could focus more on myself/the upshot. What do you think of the protein shake story? I was intending for it to function as a light hearted allegory demonstrating my problem solving/leadership ability.

[loomy78]

are you applying to law school?

[Anonymous User]

haha, yes. Do you think it is necessary to explicitly state an interest in law in my PS? I feel like it usually sounds contrived.

[kcdc1]

I usually read these to get a laugh at awful writing, but this wasn't awful. It needs to be more focused on whatever theme you're trying to establish, but I'm sure you'll get there. For what it's worth, I was expecting the theme to be your discipline and drive (which I think is good), but I think you were actually going for your problem solving ability as evidenced by what comes across as a 2 minute exchange where you were like, "Hey guys, let's not drink each other's shakes." If you think it's cool how notions of property solve real world problems and create interesting logical frameworks, focus on that more.

For what it's worth, Tragedy of the Commons was assigned reading in my property course, so you wouldn't be the first to think this is interesting and relevant to law.

[Anonymous User]

I'm glad to hear it wasn't awful. I spent the last couple hours adding emphasis to the problem solving theme and giving it more of a self-centered presentation. My plan was to have a entertaining allegory about problem solving framed within the context of a mundane January long run. I am also trying to communicate discipline and group work ethic, but not as the focus. Here is my revised version. I am getting there. Thanks for any feedback.


“Wake up, big guy. These 14 miles aren’t going to run themselves,” I whispered to my roommate. He jolted upright, and frantically checked his TIMEX. It read 5:31 am, Saturday, January 18th. In the silence, we heard frozen rain tapping at the window. We both took a deep breath and jointly let out a heavy sigh; close friends communicate most effectively without words. As I shuffled out of the dorm, the wind’s invigorating bite woke me up. I slouched my shoulders and ducked my head as I marched like a stubborn animal toward the Men’s Cross Country locker room. I knew that across campus, my teammates were doing the same. We were compelled by a tacit covenant, united by a mutual goal, and inspired by the mystique of shared suffering.

Our team inherited the locker room from the Women’s Soccer team. However, the door was never repainted. Instead, the administration scratched out the extraneous letters from “Women’s Soccer” so that the door now read “men’s cc” in awkward, off-center, lower case letters. It was typical of the shrewd, cost-saving maneuvers to which our team had grown accustomed. We are a partially funded, non-scholarship cross country team, the only one of its kind in the highly competitive Southeastern Conference. We adapted to operating with scarce resources. Today was no different.

I swung open the door to find several excited freshmen huddled around a collection of boxes. A knowing grin spread across my face. It was a delivery of protein shakes, a fleeting luxury occurring only twice each year. Historically, they are unpacked, stocked in our communal refrigerator, consumed in a feverish free-for-all, and (much to our chagrin) completely exhausted by midseason. As I watched my teammates tear into the boxes I could see the tragic cycle repeating itself. I decided it was time for a lesson in economic game theory. I raised my voice to address the team:

“Listen up fellas, in past years we treated these protein shakes like common property. We jointly consumed from a shared endowment. The shakes never lasted more than a few weeks because there was no incentive to save. No one was willing to curb their consumption because of the rational expectation that someone else would consume the surplus. It’s time we introduce some private property into this locker room. There are twenty four boxes here. I say we allocate two boxes to each person, then we each consume from our private endowment at our own discretion.”

I could see the rumination in my teammates’ eyes as they turned over the proposal in their minds. They slowly nodded their heads in unanimous consent. It was deeply gratifying to have my proposal ratified by my teammates. I contemplated the implications of the new arrangement. Shakes could now be consumed at one’s leisure, traded for other goods, or even sold for cash. This new marketplace allowed us to allocate our scarce commodity more efficiently. Adam Smith would have been proud. The change was modest, but the moment was profound. Original thought triumphed over senseless habit. By thinking critically and voicing my opinion, I reversed a wasteful precedent. I am an inveterate problem solver and a champion of independent thought. I believe opportunities are ubiquitous to the critical eye. And now, as I turned my focus toward the morning's run, I saw fourteen of them waiting to be taken.

We dressed quickly, pulling on tights, hats, and long sleeve shirts. Some pulled tube socks over their hands for added warmth. By 6:30 a.m., we were running. Our frozen breath trailed behind us like the steam of a locomotive engine. Sleet pelted our faces and numbed our lips. We ran in silence. We couldn’t speak without slurring our words into an incomprehensible moan. As we crested a rolling hill, a TIMEX beeped. One mile down. Thirteen to go. We released a collective sigh.

[Chrstgtr]

I think it is pretty good until you get to your speech. At that point you begin to use a bunch of technical economic terms that no one uses in colloquial conversation (and I find even less likely in the context of a sports locker room). At that point I began to read this as someone trying to show me how smart they are and began to notice how your general vocabulary level in this PS at times seems like you used the thesaurus a bit too much...

I like the part where you talk about waking up early and the makeshift sign as it shows a level of grit. The rest seems like you are trying to impress and show how intelligent you are.

Try to show your character and personality in your personal statement. Your GPA and LSAT will show how smart you are.

[Anonymous User]

I can see how the vocabulary might be bothersome at points. The speech is obviously paraphrased. I included the economic jargon to attempt to draw parallels to larger economic problems of resource allocation. I was a little afraid that readers wouldn't make the connection and that they would think I wrote about an exceedingly trivial isolated event for my PS. I addressed some of this in the second draft.

[Chrstgtr]

I can see how the vocabulary might be bothersome at points. The speech is obviously paraphrased. I included the economic jargon to attempt to draw parallels to larger economic problems of resource allocation. I was a little afraid that readers wouldn't make the connection and that they would think I wrote about an exceedingly trivial isolated event for my PS. I addressed some of this in the second draft.

Wanting us to make the connection is the problem. It is a transparent attempt to do so. You should be trying to show something about yourself (leadership) in your personal statement. Adcomms will probably make the connection without the extra cues and if they don't then they only think of you as a locker room leader that solved a problem.

[Anonymous User]

Thanks for the feedback so far. I have done some more revising. I took out some of the obnoxious vocabulary and made the economic jargon more appropriate by giving it a better lead-in. I also gave a little more substance to the problem-solving theme. I am happier with this version.

“Wake up, big guy. These 14 miles aren’t going to run themselves,” I whispered to my roommate. He jolted upright, and frantically checked his TIMEX. It read 5:31 am, Saturday, January 18th. In the silence, we heard frozen rain tapping at the window. We both took a deep breath and jointly let out a heavy sigh; close friends communicate most effectively without words. As I shuffled out of the dorm, the wind’s invigorating bite woke me up. I hunched my shoulders and ducked my head as I marched like a stubborn animal toward the Men’s Cross Country locker room. I knew that across campus, my teammates were doing the same. We were compelled by a tacit covenant and inspired by the mystique of shared suffering.

Our team inherited the locker room from the Women’s Soccer team. However, the door was never repainted. Instead, the administration scratched out the extraneous letters from “Women’s Soccer” so that the door now read “men’s cc” in awkward, off-center, lower case letters. It was typical of the shrewd, cost-saving maneuvers to which our team had grown accustomed. We are a partially funded, non-scholarship cross country team, the only one of its kind in the highly competitive Southeastern Conference. We adapted to operating with scarce resources. Today was no different.

I swung open the door to find several excited freshmen huddled around a collection of boxes. A knowing grin spread across my face. It was a delivery of protein shakes, a fleeting luxury occurring only twice each year. Historically, they are unpacked, stocked in our communal refrigerator, consumed in a feverish free-for-all, and (much to our disappointment) completely exhausted by mid-season. As I watched my teammates tear into the boxes I could see the unfortunate cycle repeating itself. It was a textbook example of the Tragedy of the Commons. I saw an opportunity for change as I recalled an economics lecture from the previous week. I raised my voice to address the team.

“Fellas, in past years we treated these protein shakes like common property. We jointly consumed from the fridge with no accountability. The shakes never lasted more than a few weeks because there was no incentive to save. No one was willing to curb their consumption because of the expectation that someone else would consume the surplus. I suggest we introduce property rights into this locker room. There are twenty four boxes here. We could allocate two boxes to each person, then we each consume from our private endowment at our own discretion. What do you think?”

I could see the rumination in my teammates’ eyes as they turned the proposal over in their minds. A freshman eased his grip on a handful of shakes. The team slowly nodded their heads in unanimous consent. It was gratifying to have my proposal ratified by my teammates. I contemplated the implications of the new arrangement. Shakes could now be consumed at one’s leisure, traded for other goods, or even sold for cash. This new marketplace allowed us to allocate our scarce commodity more efficiently. Adam Smith would have been proud. The change was modest, but the moment was profound. Original thought triumphed over senseless habit. My thinking critically reversed a wasteful precedent.

I have always been a problem solver and a champion of independent thinking. I believe a critical eye can find opportunities everywhere. And as I turned my focus toward the morning’s run, I saw another opportunity waiting to be seized. We dressed quickly, pulling on tights, hats, and long sleeve shirts. I pulled a pair of tube socks over my hands for added warmth. By 6:30 a.m., we were running. Our frozen breath trailed behind us like the steam of a locomotive engine. Sleet pelted our faces and numbed our lips. We ran in silence. We couldn’t speak without slurring our words into an incomprehensible moan. As we crested a rolling hill, a TIMEX beeped. One mile down. Thirteen to go. We heaved a collective sigh.

[simplytea]

Without any background/knowledge, I think this PS harkens to the more business side. If I read this, without context, I would think you were applying for your MBA.

Definitely well-written, shows you're a problem solver, but doesn't otherwise allude to your character. It speaks to the collective mindset, a group you're a part of, but not your personal qualities.

But then again I could be completely wrong because who am I to judge lol

[Gray]

.

[thequigley]

Hey OP!

I think your writing style is good, and the general idea is not bad at all, but the question you need to ask (and I'm trying to think from the perspective of the admissions people) is if it is really that impressive that you got your team to divide protein shakes equally among themselves?

[Marshmallow]

OP, I think you should start over. And I'm not saying that to be mean. I'm only saying it because you ARE a good writer. I think you're getting stuck on slightly reworking what you have, when you should maybe try a new direction-- you're simply not putting enough of YOU on the page.

[Anonymous User]

Thanks for the feedback. The protein shake allegory is beginning to feel a little forced. I could drop that part and focus on athletics. But I feel like those essays tend to sound cliche and lack depth.

[kcdc1]

I like the more recent drafts, and maybe I'm snobby, but I don't mind the heady vocab. The legal profession is a strange world of prestige-mongering and IQ-worship. That said, don't use fancy words just to show that you know fancy words - a reader will see right through that. Use fancy words because they convey your point better than other words.

But instead of "I am a problem solver" at the end, I would show that you are a problem solver by saying smart things.

[Anonymous User]

Thanks. The "I am a problem solver" is out. I am still working on it. I am trying to tie in a connection to law.

[Anonymous User]

I have another draft for anyone who can bear another reading. I reworked the 6th paragraph to give a nod to my interest in law. I do not mention law school, per se, but I think it gets the point across without being too distracting/out of place. I appreciate the feedback.

“Wake up, big guy. These 14 miles aren’t going to run themselves,” I whispered to my roommate. He jolted upright, and frantically checked his TIMEX. It read 5:31 am, Saturday, January 18th. In the silence of the darkened room, we heard frozen rain tapping at the window. We both took a deep breath and jointly let out a heavy sigh; close friends communicate most effectively without words. As I shuffled out of the dorm, the wind’s invigorating bite woke me up. I hunched my shoulders and ducked my head as I marched like a stubborn animal toward the Men’s Cross Country locker room. I knew that across campus, my teammates were doing the same. We were compelled by a tacit covenant and inspired by the mystique of shared suffering.

Our team inherited the locker room from the Women’s Soccer team. However, the door was never repainted. Instead, the administration scratched out the extraneous letters from “Women’s Soccer” so that the door now read “men’s cc” in awkward, off-center, lower case letters. It was typical of the shrewd, cost-saving maneuvers to which our team had grown accustomed. We are a partially funded, non-scholarship cross country team, the only one of its kind in the highly competitive Southeastern Conference. We adapted to operating with scarce resources. Today was no different.

I swung open the door to find several excited freshmen huddled around a collection of boxes. A knowing grin spread across my face. It was a delivery of protein shakes, a fleeting luxury occurring only twice every year. Historically, they are unpacked, stocked in our communal refrigerator, consumed in a frenzied free-for-all, and (much to our disappointment) completely exhausted by midseason. As I watched my teammates tear into the boxes I could see the unfortunate cycle repeating itself. It was a textbook example of the Tragedy of the Commons. I saw an opportunity for change as I recalled an economics lecture from the previous week. I raised my voice to address the team.

“Fellas, in past years we treated these protein shakes like common property. We all drew from the fridge with no accountability. The shakes never lasted more than a few weeks because there was no incentive to save. No one was willing to curb their consumption because of the expectation that someone else would come along and consume the surplus. I suggest we assign some property rights. There are twenty four boxes here. We could allocate two boxes to each person, then each consume from our private endowment at our own discretion. What do you think?”

I could see the rumination in my teammates’ eyes as they turned the proposal over in their minds. A freshman eased his grip on a handful of shakes. The team slowly nodded their heads in unanimous consent. It was gratifying to have my proposal ratified by my teammates. I contemplated the implications of the new arrangement. Shakes could now be consumed at one’s leisure, traded for other goods, or even sold for cash. This new marketplace allowed us to allocate our scarce commodity more efficiently. We did not know it yet, but our protein shakes would last the entire season. Adam Smith would have been proud.

Admittedly, the policy change was a modest one, but it was rich with allegorical meaning. Within the microcosm of the locker room, the simple legislation of property rights redirected incentives to provide a more stable equilibrium. The change represented a triumph of original thought over senseless habit. Reason overturned wasteful precedent. I demonstrated that, with a critical eye and a proper understanding, challenges become opportunities. I witnessed the fascinating interplay between economics and law.

Some challenges, however, are best met with blue collar grit. The excitement from the protein shake delivery faded as I returned my focus to the morning’s run. I dressed with solemn deliberation, pulling on tights, two windbreakers, and a hat. I double knotted my worn Nikes, and then slid a pair of tube socks over my hands for added warmth. By 6:30 a.m., we were running. Our frozen breath trailed behind us like the steam of a locomotive engine. Sleet pelted our faces and numbed our lips. We ran in silence. We couldn’t speak without slurring our words into an incomprehensible moan. As we crested a rolling hill, a TIMEX beeped. One mile down. Thirteen to go. We heaved a collective sigh.

[TheodoreKGB]

.

[Anonymous User]

thanks. everyone seems to enjoy the running description more than the protein shake passage.

[Anonymous User]

Final draft (or very close to it) of this topic. Any final thoughts are appreciated. A big thanks to those who have commented.

“Wake up, big guy. These 14 miles aren’t going to run themselves,” I whispered to my roommate. He jolted upright, and frantically checked his TIMEX. It read 5:31 am, Saturday, January 18th. In the silence of the darkened room, we heard frozen rain tapping at the window. We both took a deep breath and jointly let out a heavy sigh; close friends communicate most effectively without words. As I shuffled out of the dorm, the wind’s invigorating bite woke me up. I hunched my shoulders and ducked my head as I marched like a stubborn animal toward the Men’s Cross Country locker room. I knew that across campus, my teammates were doing the same. We were compelled by a tacit covenant and inspired by the mystique of shared suffering.

Our team inherited the locker room from the Women’s Soccer team. However, the door was never repainted. Instead, the administration scratched out the extraneous letters from “Women’s Soccer” so that the door now read “men’s cc” in awkward, off-center, lower case letters. It was typical of the shrewd, cost-saving maneuvers to which our team had grown accustomed. We are a partially funded, non-scholarship cross country team, the only one of its kind in the highly competitive Southeastern Conference. We adapted to operating with scarce resources. Today was no different.

I swung open the door to find several excited freshmen huddled around a collection of boxes. A knowing grin spread across my face. It was a delivery of protein shakes, a fleeting luxury occurring only twice every year. Historically, they are unpacked, stocked in our communal refrigerator, consumed in a frenzied free-for-all, and (much to our disappointment) completely exhausted by midseason. As I watched my teammates tear into the boxes I could see the unfortunate cycle repeating itself. It was a textbook example of the Tragedy of the Commons. I saw an opportunity for change as I recalled an economics lecture from the previous week. I raised my voice to address the team.

“Fellas, in past years the protein shakes never lasted more than a few weeks. We all drew the common property from the refrigerator with no accountability. We weren’t willing to slow our consumption because of the expectation that someone else would come along and take the surplus. I suggest we assign some property rights. We could each have private ownership of two boxes. Do with them what you see fit. Binge drink them over the next week, trade them for other goods, pawn them for cash, or stockpile them for the apocalypse. What do you guys think?”

I could see the rumination in my teammates’ eyes as they turned the proposal over in their minds. A freshman eased his grip on a handful of shakes. The team slowly nodded their heads in unanimous consent. It was gratifying to have my proposal ratified by my teammates. Everyone grabbed two boxes and locked them away. We did not know it yet, but, for the first time ever, our protein shakes would last the entire season. This new marketplace allowed us to allocate our scarce commodity more efficiently. Adam Smith would have been proud.

Admittedly, the policy change was a modest one, but it was rich with allegorical meaning. Within the microcosm of the locker room, the legislation of property rights redirected incentives to provide a more stable equilibrium. The change represented a triumph of original thought over senseless habit. Challenge became opportunity. Reason overturned wasteful precedent. I witnessed the fascinating interplay between economics and law. It is a relationship that has always captivated me, and it is one that I intend to learn more about. A legal education will sharpen my understanding of this relationship. With this knowledge. I will turn challenges into opportunities.

Some challenges, however, are best met with blue collar grit. The excitement from the protein shake delivery faded as I returned my focus to the morning’s run. I dressed with solemn deliberation, pulling on tights, two windbreakers, and a hat. I double knotted my worn Nikes, and then slid a pair of tube socks over my hands for added warmth. Then, we were running. Our frozen breath trailed behind us like the steam of a locomotive engine. Sleet pelted our faces and numbed our lips. We ran in silence. We couldn’t speak without slurring our words into an incomprehensible moan. As we crested a rolling hill, a TIMEX beeped. One mile down. Thirteen to go.

[erickt88]

Final draft (or very close to it) of this topic. Any final thoughts are appreciated. A big thanks to those who have commented.

“Wake up, big guy. These 14 miles aren’t going to run themselves,” I whispered to my roommate. He jolted upright, and frantically checked his TIMEX. It read 5:31 am, Saturday, January 18th. In the silence of the darkened room, we heard frozen rain tapping at the window. We both took a deep breath and jointly let out a heavy sigh; close friends communicate most effectively without words. As I shuffled out of the dorm, the wind’s invigorating bite woke me up. I hunched my shoulders and ducked my head as I marched like a stubborn animal toward the Men’s Cross Country locker room. I knew that across campus, my teammates were doing the same. We were compelled by a tacit covenant and inspired by the mystique of shared suffering.

Our team inherited the locker room from the Women’s Soccer team. However, the door was never repainted. Instead, the administration scratched out the extraneous letters from “Women’s Soccer” so that the door now read “men’s cc” in awkward, off-center, lower case letters. It was typical of the shrewd, cost-saving maneuvers to which our team had grown accustomed. We are a partially funded, non-scholarship cross country team, the only one of its kind in the highly competitive Southeastern Conference. We adapted to operating with scarce resources. Today was no different.

I swung open the door to find several excited freshmen huddled around a collection of boxes. A knowing grin spread across my face. It was a delivery of protein shakes, a fleeting luxury occurring only twice every year. Historically, they are unpacked, stocked in our communal refrigerator, consumed in a frenzied free-for-all, and (much to our disappointment) completely exhausted by midseason. As I watched my teammates tear into the boxes I could see the unfortunate cycle repeating itself. It was a textbook example of the Tragedy of the Commons. I saw an opportunity for change as I recalled an economics lecture from the previous week. I raised my voice to address the team.

“Fellas, in past years the protein shakes never lasted more than a few weeks. We all drew the common property from the refrigerator with no accountability. We weren’t willing to slow our consumption because of the expectation that someone else would come along and take the surplus. I suggest we assign some property rights. We could each have private ownership of two boxes. Do with them what you see fit. Binge drink them over the next week, trade them for other goods, pawn them for cash, or stockpile them for the apocalypse. What do you guys think?”

I could see the rumination in my teammates’ eyes as they turned the proposal over in their minds. A freshman eased his grip on a handful of shakes. The team slowly nodded their heads in unanimous consent. It was gratifying to have my proposal ratified by my teammates. Everyone grabbed two boxes and locked them away. We did not know it yet, but, for the first time ever, our protein shakes would last the entire season. This new marketplace allowed us to allocate our scarce commodity more efficiently. Adam Smith would have been proud.

Admittedly, the policy change was a modest one, but it was rich with allegorical meaning. Within the microcosm of the locker room, the legislation of property rights redirected incentives to provide a more stable equilibrium. The change represented a triumph of original thought over senseless habit. Challenge became opportunity. Reason overturned wasteful precedent. I witnessed the fascinating interplay between economics and law. It is a relationship that has always captivated me, and it is one that I intend to learn more about. A legal education will sharpen my understanding of this relationship. With this knowledge. I will turn challenges into opportunities.

Some challenges, however, are best met with blue collar grit. The excitement from the protein shake delivery faded as I returned my focus to the morning’s run. I dressed with solemn deliberation, pulling on tights, two windbreakers, and a hat. I double knotted my worn Nikes, and then slid a pair of tube socks over my hands for added warmth. Then, we were running. Our frozen breath trailed behind us like the steam of a locomotive engine. Sleet pelted our faces and numbed our lips. We ran in silence. We couldn’t speak without slurring our words into an incomprehensible moan. As we crested a rolling hill, a TIMEX beeped. One mile down. Thirteen to go.

Really enjoyed the way you write. Would you mind looking at my personal statement?