Sara Etgen-Baker 张宁

An empty lantern provides no light. Self-care is the fuel that allows your light to shine brightly.

—Author Unknown

空燈笼不亮。照顾好自己能让你闪耀光芒。

——无名氏

“Pick up the pace！” coaxed1 my husband.

“But I cant！” I said， my heart pounding hard inside my chest. “I cant go any faster！”

“Yes， you can！ Youre not fat anymore.”

There it was， the word “fat” and label that defined me for 30 years. I was a plump2， pleasant little girl， and then a charming， chunky3 teenager. By the time I entered college， I was a spirited and stout4 young woman. Six years later， I was an obese5 college graduate with a bright career ahead of me—a career that failed to take off.

But I was blind to my own obesity， unaware that it was at the core of my unemployability6 until someone shared his reason for not hiring me. “Your credentials7 are sound， but your level of obesity makes me doubt if you can do the job well.”

His words opened my eyes to a hard truth： I was addicted8 to food. Breaking my addiction was hard. It required making different choices. Slowly， I changed my eating habits， eating only when I was physically hungry instead of eating when I was emotionally hungry.

Although I could barely walk down the stairs of my apartment building， I began walking to improve. Initially， I could walk for only 15 minutes at a time. But I pushed myself every day， walking five minutes longer than I did the day before until I walked for an hour and two at last. For two years， I committed9 myself to healthy eating choices and maintained my walking regimen10， slowly and painstakingly changing myself from being an unhealthy 300-pound woman to a 130-pound healthy one. At that point， I traded my walking shoes for running shoes and became an avid11 runner.

My journey motivated my husband. In March 2001， after seeing a commercial12 inviting Americans to nominate13 an ordinary person who inspired them to bring the Olympic flame to Salt Lake City， he nominated me to be a torchbearer14. The chance of being selected was small. But I believed my story would inspire others.

Running taught me the importance of training for a race. I pictured myself running a race and crossing the finish line. For months， I ran through my neighborhood carrying a broken-off broom handle with a three-pound weight on it in my right hand， feeling the weight of the torch. I waved at my neighbors， pretending they were cheering. I printed a picture of a torchbearer wearing the white uniform， replaced the face with a picture of mine， and taped it to my refrigerator door. Every day， I visualized myself as a torchbearer. I was in training to participate in a historic running event.

On September 26th， while on my daily run through my neighborhood， an express package arrived. My hands trembled as I opened it and read：

Youve been selected as a “potential” support runner for the Salt Lake 2002 Olympic Torch Relay...A nationwide search was conducted for ordinary individuals whove inspired others to be both torchbearers and support runners. Youve obviously touched those around you. Although all the torchbearer spots have been filled， youre eligible to be a support runner. A support runner serves as “guardian of the flame” and accompanies torchbearers carrying the Olympic Flame along its journey... Congratulations！

Although I wouldnt be wearing the white uniform and carrying the torch as I had imagined， I wasnt disappointed. My dream of participating in the torch relay was coming true！ I was delighted to be a support runner and “guardian of the flame”. I completed the required physical examination， submitted15 the forms， and waited， knowing that the letter clearly stated I was a “potential” support runner. Months passed without any word， but I continued my training runs through the neighborhood. Finally， on December 20th， another package arrived. It contained my official blue support runner uniform along with instructions for my segment of the relay.

“Bill，” I ran inside the house screaming， “Im officially a support runner！ Were going to Santa Fe， New Mexico！”

For the following weeks and despite winters bitter cold， I ran every day through my neighborhood， clutching16 my makeshift torch in my gloved hand. On January 12th， a bitter cold day， my husband and I stood outside the Torch Relay collection point in Santa Fe. “One of todays torchbearers cant run her segment，” announced the relay organizer as she dropped folded pieces of paper into her hat. “One lucky support runner will become a torchbearer. Select a number from this hat as its passed around.”

I removed my glove and reached into the hat， with my numb17 hand trembling. I closed my eyes， stirred the contents， nabbed18 the first piece of paper that stuck to my fingers， and waited.

“Number 32！ Who has number 32？”

I opened my eyes and unfolded my piece of paper. “Me！Oh， my God...me！”

I was whisked19 inside where I changed into a white torchbearer uniform and boarded the bus with the Olympic theme song blaring20 over the loudspeakers. The bus drove down streets lined with balloons and banners， filled with people waving flags. Then I stepped off the bus and positioned myself to receive the flame. The cold air， filled with excitement， took away my breath. Hold it tightly， I thought， as the flame in the torch carried by the runner before me lit my three-pound torch. I turned around and ran down the street， just as I had practised all those months.

The world vanished. I ran without my feet ever touching the ground. I waved and smiled as I floated past the bystanders， and for an instant I thought I saw Konstantinos Kondylis， the first modern-day Olympic torchbearer， in the crowd. “Its about sharing the Olympic spirit， and giving the flame of strength and inspiration to others，” he murmured.

Like Konstantinos， I was an ordinary person taking part in an extraordinary running event—one that had little to do with me. Yes， I was carrying the Torch， but more importantly， I was carrying the Olympic spirit. I still run， inspired to live and work with the Olympic spirit in my heart， doing my part to inspire others.

“加快步伐！”我丈夫哄我說。

“但我做不到！”我说着，我的心在胸腔里砰砰地跳，“我没法再快了！”

“不，你可以的！你再也不是胖子了。”

就是“胖”这个词和标签，定义了我30年。我曾是一个肉乎乎、可爱的小女孩，然后成为一个迷人、矮胖的少女。进入大学的时候，我变成了一个精力充沛、肥胖的年轻女子。六年后，我成了一个过胖的大学毕业生，有着前途光明的职业在前方向我招手——但是我没能成功。

但我对自己的肥胖视而不见，直到有人告诉我他不雇用我的原因，我才意识到肥胖是我找不到工作的关键。“你的文凭很好，但你肥胖的程度让我怀疑你能否做好工作。”

他的话使我看到了一个残酷的事实：我沉迷于食物。戒掉瘾很难，它需要我做出不同的选择。慢慢地，我改变了我的饮食习惯，只在生理上饿的时候吃，而不是在情绪上饥饿的时候吃。

虽然我几乎从不步行下公寓楼，但我开始步行来改善。最初，我一次只能走15分钟。但我每天都在逼迫自己，比头一天多走5分钟，直到走一个小时，最后走两个小时。两年来，我一直致力于选择健康饮食，并坚持自己的走路习惯，慢慢地、艰苦地将自己从一个300磅重（约136kg）的不健康女性转变为130磅重（约59kg）的健康女性。在那一刻，我把我的休闲鞋换成了跑步鞋，成了一名狂热的跑步者。

我的历程激励了我丈夫。2001年3月，在看到一则广告邀请美国人推荐一位激励了他们的普通人将奥运圣火带到盐湖城后，我的丈夫推荐我担任火炬手。被选中的几率很小，但我相信我的故事会激励其他人。

跑步教会了我针对比赛进行训练的重要性。我想象自己赛跑并越过终点线。几个月来，我右手拿着一把三磅重（约1.4kg）的断了的扫帚柄，在附近街区跑来跑去，感受着火炬的重量。我向邻居挥手，假想他们在欢呼。我打印了一张身穿白色制服的火炬手的照片，用我的照片替换了他的脸，并用胶带贴在冰箱门上。每天，我都把自己想象成一个火炬手。我正在为参加一个历史性的跑步活动而训练。

9月26日，我在进行日常街区跑步时，一个快递包裹到了。我用颤抖的手打开它，里面写着：

你被选为2002年盐湖城奥运火炬接力的“有潜质的”助跑者……我们在全国范围内寻找那些激励过其他人的普通人成为火炬手和助跑者。你显然感动了你周围的人。虽然所有的火炬手名额都已经满了，但你有资格成为一名助跑者。助跑者是“圣火守护者”，会陪同火炬手举着奥运圣火一路前行……恭喜你！

虽然我不会像想象的那样穿上白色制服，手持火炬，但我并不失望。我参加火炬传递的梦想成真了！我很高兴能成为一名助跑者和“圣火守护者”。我完成了规定的体检，提交了表格，然后等待，因为我知道信中清楚地表明我是一名“有潜质”的助跑者。几个月过去了，我一声不吭，继续在街区里跑步训练。最后，在12月20日，又一个包裹到了。里面有我的官方蓝色助跑者制服和我的接力部分的说明。

“比尔，”我尖叫着跑进屋子，“我正式成为了一名助跑者！我们要去新墨西哥州的圣达菲！”

接下来的几周里，尽管冬天寒冷刺骨，我还是每天都跑步穿过附近街区，戴着手套握着我的临时火炬。1月12日，那是个寒冷刺骨的日子，我和丈夫站在圣达菲火炬接力采集点外。“今天的一个火炬手跑不了她的那部分，”接力的组织者宣布。她把折叠的纸条扔到她的帽子里。“一位幸运的助跑者将成为火炬手。在把这顶帽子传过去的时候，从中抽出一个数字。”

我摘下手套，把手伸进帽子里，麻木的手颤抖着。我闭上眼睛，搅动里面的东西，抓住了手指碰到的第一张纸条，然后等待着。

“32号！谁有32号？”

我睁开眼睛，打开了我的那张纸条。“我！哦，我的天……是我！”

我被带到里面，换上白色火炬手制服，登上了巴士，喇叭里响起奥林匹克主题曲。巴士沿着挂满气球和横幅的街道行驶，街上挤满了挥舞旗帜的人。然后我下了车，准备迎接圣火。寒冷的空气里充满了兴奋，令我喘不过气来。当我前面的一个火炬手手中火炬的火焰点燃了我三磅重的火炬时，我想着，紧紧地握住它。我转过身，沿街跑去，就像我所有这几个月里练习的那样。

世界消失了，我跑的时候脚都没碰到地面。当我从旁观者身边飘过时，我挥手微笑，有那么一瞬间，我想我在人群中看到了第一位现代奥运火炬手康斯坦丁·康迪利斯。“这就是分享奥林匹克精神，把力量和灵感的火焰传递给别人。”他低声地说。

和康斯坦丁一样，我也是个参加了一个非同寻常的跑步活动的普通人——这个跑步活动与我没多大关系。是的，我是在传递火炬，但更重要的是，我是在传递奥林匹克精神。我仍然在跑步，在生活和工作上受到激励，心中充满奥林匹克精神，尽自己的一份力量去激励他人。

（英语原文选自：www.chickensoup.com）