【关于谷爱凌的英语初中作文】中国《雪公主》顾爱玲散文：英文原版和机器翻译

我承认，我爱上了恐惧

作者：顾爱玲

下面是机器翻译版。

在我18年的最后10年里，我一直追求充满恐惧的嘈杂爱情。我是专业自由滑雪运动员，双尖滑雪板，22英尺半冠，双软木旋转是肾上腺素的主要来源，这是极限运动真正成瘾性的核心。

就像所有有魅力的恋人一样(至少因为我读过的小说里的东西，现实世界的经验不足)，这重要的一对是。反复无常。“恐惧”其实是三种不同感觉的总称：兴奋、不确定性和压力。我意识到，当所有感官的细微指标都得到认可和积极利用时，可能有助于成功，而被忽视时，则预示着受伤。

很容易把极限运动运动员标记为没有恐惧或反复无常，但我花了无数个小时将技术可视化，放在泡沫坑里。颗粒。无处不在)和气囊(想想巨大的滑移)中练习。对我们来说，把自己置于危险的位置在生物学上是违反直觉的。虽然我们尽一切努力准备身体，但更多的隐喻安全网练习不能像陡峭的足球人发射我们后冲进来迎接我们的无情的雪坡进入空中一样。我们不是无视恐惧，而是通过培养深刻的自我意识和深思熟虑的风险评估建立独特的关系。

工作从可视化开始。在我尝试新的技巧之前，我感觉到胸部紧紧地挤在我喉咙的底部和横隔膜的顶部之间。我深呼吸，闭上眼睛。当我登上巨大的起飞坡道时，我想象着为了最大限度地提高升力而伸腿。然后想象上半身向我要旋转的相反方向扭曲。在让它朝另一个方向弹之前，会产生扭矩。(大卫亚设)。

好吧，在我看来，我拱手相让了。我立刻看到了起飞的背面，我的反转将我的视线引向头顶上没有一丝云彩的天空。我的耳朵把风当成一种歌，每360度旋转一次，都为我的动作音乐提供节拍。当我的脚掉在中间时，我发现身体在第二次翻转前最短的时间内着陆。我想象我的腿在我的身体下面晃动。回到我朝前的位置，用我靴子前面的重量接触地面的时候。1440度。我微笑。然后我睁开了眼睛。

在我思考的那一刻，我心中的结颤抖着，——的著名蝴蝶们到达了最后的蜕变阶段。兴奋，肾上腺素孩子，我的真爱和上瘾。在我对安全执行技巧的能力的自信和对即将到来的不可预测的经验的兴奋之间，存在着这种诱人的不稳定平衡。我把这个州称为“地区”，这确实是我去年秋天成为历史上第一个登陆双软木1440的女性滑雪者的地方。

不幸的是，不确定性很快就会压倒自信。不完全的准备弄湿了我的手掌，把那个紧绷的地方推到我身上，使我每次呼吸都比上次更浅。那种感觉不是惊慌，而是恐惧之类的。危险！所有进化的本能都在呼喊。如果我选择跳过这个安全机制，我的身体可以在空中自主移动，转动，并强迫我准备冲击。因为有人担心，如果完全投入这个骗局，就可能以灾难结束。每个自由滑雪运动员的目标是识别兴奋和不确定性之间的微妙差异，在最大限度地提高成绩的同时，最大限度地减少受伤风险。

最后，有压力，各种方法使用的能量。一个人的压力体验——到目前为止，“恐惧”最主观的方面——受到个人经验和观点的影响。家人和朋友的期待、竞争优势、赞助机会都可以支撑高压环境。压力对利用它克服困难的竞争者来说可能是积极的力量，但也可能单独导致竞争失败。

但是，运动员是否减轻或加重“证明自己”的内心欲望，很大程度上取决于自信。当我成年的时候，我对通过提高自尊心和减少对外部验证的需求来应对压力的工作感到自豪。(威廉莎士比亚，哈姆雷特，成功)我关注的是感恩、远见和这项运动给我带来的快乐。无论是我一个人还是在全球电视观众面前。我对自己和世界的看法在不断变化，但有一点是肯定的。时间再久，在恐惧面前，我将永远是无可救药的浪漫主义者。(约翰f肯尼迪)。

以下是英文原版

I Admit，I' m in love with fear

Essay by Eileen Gu

For the last 10 of my 18 years，I ' ve pursued a tumultuous love affair with fear . I ' m a professional free skier，and twin-tipp 22--

like all bewitching lovers(at least the ones in the novels I read，for lack of real-world experience)，this significant other cant

rella term for three distinct sensations: excitement, uncertainty, and pressure. I’ve learned that the nuanced indicators of each of these feelings can be instrumental to success when recognized and positively leveraged, and harbingers of injury when ignored.

Though it’s easy to label extreme sport athletes as fearless or capricious, the countless hours I’ve spent visualizing tricks and practicing them in foam pits (foam. particles. everywhere) and on airbags (think giant Slip ’N Slide) suggest otherwise. It’s biologically counterintuitive for us to place ourselves in positions of risk, and while we make every effort to physically prepare, no amount of metaphorically safety-netted practice can equate to the unforgiving snow slope that rushes up to meet us after a steep kicker launches us into the air. Instead of ignoring fear, we build unique relationships with it by developing a profound sense of self-awareness and making deliberate risk assessments.

The work begins with visualization. Before I attempt a new trick, I feel a tightening high in my chest, between the base of my throat and the top of my diaphragm. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. As I ascend the gargantuan takeoff ramp, I imagine extending my legs to maximize lift. Then I picture twisting my upper body in the opposite direction I intend to spin, generating torque before I allow it to snap back the other way.

Now, in my mind, I’m airborne. I see the backside of the takeoff immediately, then my flip draws my vision to the cloudless sky above me. My ears register the wind as a kind of song, every 360-degree rotation providing the beat to the music of my motion. As my feet come under me halfway through, I spot the landing for the briefest of moments before I pull my body into the second flip. I imagine my legs swinging under me as I return to a forward-facing position and meet the ground with my weight in the front of my boots. 1440 degrees. I smile. Then I open my eyes.

In the split second following my visualization, the knot in my chest flutters and spreads — those famous butterflies reaching their final stage of metamorphosis. Excitement, the child of adrenaline, my true love and addiction. That tantalizingly precarious balance between confidence in my ability to execute the trick safely and excitement for the unpredictable experience to come. I’ve heard this state called “the zone,” which is indeed where I was when I became the first female skier in history to land the double cork 1440 last fall.

It doesn’t take much, unfortunately, for uncertainty to override confidence. Imperfect preparation moistens my palms, pushes that tight spot down into my stomach and makes each breath shallower than the last. The feeling isn’t panic, but something like dread. Danger! cries every evolutionary instinct. If I should choose to look past this safety mechanism, my body may act autonomously in the air, twisting out of the rotation and forcing me to brace for impact out of fear that full commitment to the trick may end in disaster. Every freeskier’s goal is to recognize the minute differences between excitement and uncertainty in order to maximize performance while minimizing the risk of injury.

Finally, there’s pressure, an energy source that can be wielded in many ways. One’s experience of pressure — by far the most subjective facet of “fear” — is affected by personal experiences and perspectives. Expectations of family and friends, a competitive streak, or even sponsorship opportunities can provide the scaffolding for a high-pressure environment. Pressure can be a positive force for competitors who leverage it to rise to the occasion, but it can also single-handedly dictate competitive failure.

But whether athletes alleviate or compound their innate desire to “prove themselves” depends largely on confidence. As I enter my early adulthood, I’m proud of the work I’ve done to cope with pressure by bolstering my self-esteem and minimizing my need for external validation. I focus on gratitude, perspective, and on the joy this sport brings me, regardless of whether I’m alone or in front of a worldwide TV audience. Though my views of myself and the world are constantly evolving, one thing is for certain: no matter how much time passes, I’ll always be a hopeless romantic when it comes to fear.

对比一下，机器翻译意思比有些人翻译的更加接近原意。