关于路的英文文章

人生路坎坷，如若我们都能像文中妻子那样，把它分成若干个“4英里”，那么再崎岖的旅程也总会有坦途。下面小编为大家整理的关于路的英文文章，希望对大家有用!

关于路的英文文章

From where I live on the fog-shrouded coast of California's Monterey Peninsula, there is no easy way to go anywhere.We have roads with views that will take your breath away, hugging cliffs high above breaking surf, but few fast lanes.To go north to San Francisco, you take the Old Coast Highway, and then proceed to 101, a multilane freeway, which, depending on weather and traffic will eventually get you where you're going or drive you crazy.But the part I dreaded most was a narrow two-lane stretch of a road that connected the two.In the South, where I grew up, such roads are called cow trails, because they are frequented by farm equipment and vehicles that plod along at bovine speed.

Roads are like people; they have personalities—colored by how we see and feel about them at particular times.My husband Randy taught me this about roads.He was an athlete, body and soul.A high school basketball coach, he loved and worked out with his teams.He was a marathon runner who could run miles and not be weary.In 25 years of teaching he rarely had a sick day, and then he had cancer.

So we began another race down another road:a four-year-long marathon to Stanford University Medical Center for surgeries, radiation, chemo and more than a few emergencies.And to get to the hospital we had to travel those impossible roads — 91 miles, two hours.I hated every minute and inch.I especially hated that traffic-clogged two-lane bottleneck.Then they started construction.Randy never complained.But as he grew weaker, I tried to circumvent that cow trail to shorten our drive.I spent hours with maps and drove miles out of the way trying to get around it—only to find that there was no getting around it.I had no choice but to drive it — but I didn't have to like it. So while my husband slept, helped by morphine, I'd clench my teeth, grip the wheel and felt my stomach churn.Once, when we were running late for an appointment, believing he was asleep, I muttered under my breath, “I hate this stupid road.”

“Four miles, ”he said.

I looked over, his eyes were closed.

“What did you say? ”I asked.

“This part of the road, ”he said in his calm coaching voice, as if talking to a student.“It's only four miles long.That's easy.You can do anything for four miles.”

I checked the odometer.He was right, four miles exactly.I could have sworn it was 20.Suddenly the drive got easier.It didn't seem easier, it was easier.Four miles was doable and comprehensible.It was the distance we walked in the evening from our house to the beach and back.It was half the length of a pine-scented mountain trail he loved to hike in Yosemite, with a baby on his back.Four short trips to our local park to play catch with our kids.A fraction of the 26 miles he once ran in the International Marathon.Four miles was nothing— certainly not a space or time worth wasting in anger and irritation when he had only months to live.So I stopped complaining.Most of the times his eyes were shut, but mine were open.I started really looking.And there appeared green acres of artichoke fields that glistened in the sun or disappeared when the fog rolled in.Strawberries and roses in wooden crates at roadside stands, a dilapidated barn reflected in the green looking glass of an algae-filled pond.And there was an old white horse no longer able to trot, wistfully watching cars running down the open road.

Those things had always been there, but I had never noticed.Randy taught me how to see them.Losing a loved one can break your heart, but it can also open your eyes.Now when the road is snarled or long and hard, I break it into pieces in my soul.I divide it into four-mile stretches.You can endure anything for four miles —even find beauty and acceptance along the way.

一段艰辛的路

我住在云雾笼罩的加利福尼亚州曼特雷半岛沿岸，去哪里都没有便捷之路。这里的道路险得让你倒吸一口凉气，它们紧贴悬崖，下面便是咆哮的激浪，很少有快车道。向北到旧金山，要走旧海岸公路，然后再走101公路，这是一条多车道高速公路，根据不同的天气和交通情况，要么最终让你到达你要去的地方，要么堵得你发狂。然而，最令我害怕的却是那条把两路相连的窄路，这路只有两条车道。在南方，也就是我的家乡，这种路被叫做“赶牛小道”，因为路上都是些行驶得像牛一样缓慢的农用设备和车辆。

道路就像人一样，它们有自己的个性——这取决于我们在某些特定时刻如何去看待和感受它们，我丈夫兰迪这样告诉我。他是个彻头彻尾的运动员，是一所高中的篮球教练，他热爱他的球队，并和队员一道进行艰苦训练。他还是一个马拉松运动员，能跑好多英里路而不觉得累。在他执教的25年里，他很少生病。可是，后来他却得了癌症。

于是，我们就在另一条道路上开始了另一场赛跑：一场长达4年之久的马拉松赛——前往斯坦福大学医疗中心，进行手术、放射性治疗、化疗和一些其他的紧急处理。去医院时，我们必须走过那段艰难路程——那段长达91英里，行车2小时的艰难路程。我讨厌每一尺每一寸的路程。我特别讨厌那条交通阻塞只有两车道的“瓶颈式”道路。后来这条道路开始得到了修建。兰迪从未抱怨过。但是，当他身体更加虚弱时，我总是尽量绕过那条“牛道”来缩短行车时间。我花费很长时间看地图，然后绕道好几英里想绕过那条路，却发现根本无法绕过它。我别无选择，只好走这条路，但我讨厌它。当兰迪借助吗啡入睡后，我便咬紧牙，握紧方向盘，感觉自己的胃都在翻动。有一次我们去治疗时迟到了，我以为兰迪睡着了，便小声嘀咕道：“我讨厌这条该死的路!”

“4英里”，他说。

我看了看他，他闭着眼睛。

“你说什么?”我问道。

“这段路只有4英里长。那很简单。你随便干点什么也就走过这4英里了。”兰迪以他那教练式的沉静口吻对我说，就像是在对他的学生说话。

我核对了一下里程计。他说得对，确实是4英里。我还坚信是20英里呢。突然，驾驶变得容易了。并非是看上去变容易，确实是容易了。4英里是容易开过去的，我对它有概念——4英里的路也就是我们晚上散步时，从家到海滩的那段往返路程;就是他在约塞米蒂背着孩子，徒步走过的那条四周散发着松树芳香的山路的一半路程;就是我们去当地公园和孩子们玩手球的那段路的4倍路程;就是他曾经跑过的26英里国际马拉松赛程的一小段。4英里根本就不算什么，兰迪只能再活几个月了，把时间浪费在为这4英里路而感到气恼上是不值得的。于是我停止了抱怨。大多时候，他的双眼是紧闭的，但我的双眼是睁开的。我开始真正地观看。出现在眼前的是一大片绿色的洋蓟地，它们时而在阳光下闪闪发光，时而在滚滚而来的雾气中隐没。路旁木箱里装着草莓和玫瑰，一座倾塌的牲口棚在镜子般的绿色池水中映出倒影，池里长满了水藻，一匹老得再也跑不动的白马若有所思地看着公路上行驶的车辆。

这一切一直是在那里的，可我却从未注意到。兰迪教会我如何去看待它们。失去爱人让人心碎，但这也可以使你睁开双眼。现在，每当我遇到令人心烦的或艰难漫长的道路时，我在心中将它分成段，将它分为4英里的小段路。如果只是4英里路，你就可以忍受一切，甚至还可以发现沿途那些美丽和令你赞不绝口的景物。