Every year, thousands of runners gather in Australia to run the yearly 543. 7- mile (875- kilometer)endurance (忍耐力) course from Sydney to Melbourne.

It is thought to be one of the world ‘s toughest ultra - marathons (超级马拉松), which can take up to five days to cross the finish line. So only the top athletes of the game typically dare to take it on. They are young (generally under 30), and obviously well equipped and trained. Most importantly, with the help of high-level teams, they will draw up a detailed plan to make sure that they will have enough time for running and sleeping during the race.

But all that changed when a 61- year - old competitor by the name of Cliff Young entered it. Cliff had always dreamed of taking part in the ultra - marathon since he heard of the event when he was young. Finally, with the support of his family, he signed up for it and now he wandered to the starting blocks (起跑器). But he made a strange sight. Everyone was laughing at his everyday overalls (连体工装裤) and work boots (靴子) with his race number proudly displayed on the back of his shirt.

However, Cliff never cared about it. When questioned by the media why he dared to take part in such a challenging running, he told the curious press that his hard - working background gave him all the skills and endurance he’d need to finish the race, saying: “I grew up on a farm where we couldn’t afford horses or tractors, and the whole time I was growing up, whenever the storms would roll in, I’d have to go out and round up the sheep. We had 2, 000 sheep on 2, 000 acres. Sometimes I would have to run those sheep for two or three days. It took a long time, but I’d always catch them. I believe I can run this race. So do my family!” Hearing this, they were so shocked and thought him to be too confident. No one believed he would win, and some even doubt whether he would finish the game.

And from the moment the runners left the starting blocks, it looked like the skeptics (怀疑者) would be proved right.

However, according to Cliff, it was all part of his plan.

In old times, there was a story about a young athletic boy hungry for success, for whom winning was everything.

One day, the boy was preparing himself for a running competition in his small native village. He and two other young boys were to compete. A large crowd had gathered to witness the competition and a wise old man, upon hearing of the little boy, had traveled far to see it too.

The race started. The boy showed his determination, strength and power and he was first. The crowd cheered and waved at the boy. The wise man remained still and calm. The little boy, however, felt proud and important.

A second race was called, and two new young challengers came forward to run with the little boy. The little boy finished first once again. The crowd again cheered and waved at the boy. The wise man expressed no opinion. The little boy, however, felt proud and important.

“Another race, another race!” shouted the little boy. The wise old man stepped forward and presented the little boy with two new challengers, a frail old lady and a blind man. “What is this?” asked the little boy. “Race!” said the wise man. The race was started and the boy was the only finisher. The little boy raised his arms in delight. The crowd, however, was silent showing no happiness. “What has happened? Why don’t they join in my success?” he asked the wise old man. “Race again, ” replied the wise man. “This time, all three of you, finish together,” continued the wise man.

The little boy thought a little,

“Old man, I don’t understand! Who are the crowd cheering for? Which one of us?” asked the little boy.

Some kids play sports. They run hundreds of laps, and tackle, kick, or swing. Some kids do makeover parties. They pool their fashion magazines and organize their own spa hair salons. And some kids are computer geeks. Their programming ability is a thing of wonder.

Me? I had the spelling bee (拼字比赛). The bee was my World Series. And what happened during a Spelling Bee remained fresh in my memory.

I trained every day on my front steps after school, the dictionary pages rippling softly in the breeze. I formed a habit carrying around my buddies Longman, Webster, and Oxford.

As soon as I opened my eyes on Friday morning, I felt the hairs on my arm stand up. I glanced at my alarm clock—it was only 6:27. I usually woke up at 7:01, which meant I had an extra thirty-four minutes to study. Starting with the word “judgment” which I always spelt as “J-U-D-G-M-A-N-T”, I went over several words.

To calm my butterflies in my stomach, I reminded myself that I was one of the best spellers in my class. I was not ambitious enough to want to go to the Scripps National Spelling Bee or anything—I just wanted to win the bee at Meadowbrook Middle School, so that I could defeat my main enemy, Nathan Fortescue.

Nathan thought he was a better speller than I was, but he didn’t even study words. He just read tons of science and math books. Really, he wasn’t a speller at heart—he was a mathematician. Nathan and I had nothing in common except being good spellers, but since he was a good speller without even trying, it didn’t count. I bet if you gave Nathan a modern literature word like “denouement”, he’d be out on the first round.

The Spelling Bee wasn’t until after lunch, so all I did in the morning was stare at the clock and wondered how seconds could possibly pass by so slowly. I sneaked away from lunch early so I could get in a few extra minutes of study time.

As soon as I shut the classroom door behind me, I heard a voice.

“Now it’s time for the Spelling Bee!” Ms. Hawking said brightly.