Run, run like the wind and dont look back
I could still smell the excitement in the air as I recall the scene in the National Stadium. It was the annual sports meet pitching the best athletes of my school with five other primary schools.
I have always envy these athletes; so graceful on the track, wild cheers from the stands as they cross the finishing line, a face of unmask joy peppered by beads of perspirations, the sweet savor of success by the medal holders.
I always wish that I could do likewise, joining them on the track, being part of their success, being in the limelight. That was me, fourteen years ago, a primary school kid wanting to be part of a 'cooler' group and basking in the glory for a change.
But I was never selected for school representation. It wasnt that I couldn’t run, I have always been among the fastest in my class. To the teachers, I have never fitted into the profile of a runner. Being short, skinny and geeky certainly did not help.
Whenever I crouch on the field ready to spring at the sound of the whistle, a message will flash across my head, like a searing hot iron, "Run, run like the wind and don’t look back.." Over and over again I repeated it in my mind as I dash towards the finishing line. Glory was non-existent and the feeling of winning empty for it was merely a physical education class. I realized it takes a bigger stage to bring about the elevated feelings of winning.
And thus I ended my primary school on a note that I have never won anything of real significance.
I was thirteen when I was spotted (finally) by my PE teacher in my new secondary school. He asked me to go for a trial. I didn’t turn up. I was alone in a new environment, and I didn’t feel I was up to the task. I guess it was a different scenario when you are in a primary school and the older boys don’t seem that much bigger and when you are thirteen and standing besides secondary four men that are so much taller than myself.
I was seventeen when I finally corrected the low perception of myself. I was still short and skinny. Nothing much has changed. But I wanted to give it a shot because I realize that was probably the only (and last) chance of me trying out athletics.
The first medal I won was a bronze in the 800 meters. I was 17. Success was sweet, although I lost out on the gold and silver after being over taken at the 100m. I was the junior racing against a field of senior. Third placing was already a high order and remains one of my fondest memories.
After that bronze model, I carried on training, biding my time, searching for the elusive gold. I was doing my warm ups in lane 4 of the track, stretching and jumping like every other day of my training sessions for the past year.
"Run, run like the wind and don’t look back" I repeated to myself as the crack of the pistol sounded. Fifty-seven seconds and 400 meters later, I glanced across my shoulders and notice I was a body length ahead of the next guy as I crossed the finishing line.
I have done what I set out to do eight years ago but the feeling of winning was hollower that I thought. It dawned on me that it was the process rather than the result that was sweeter. Reaching the end of the destination had a sort of hollow ring to it.
Success might not come tomorrow; it might not even arrive eight years later. However, it is the process of trying and overcoming the odds that makes it all the worthwhile.
This post is not meant to showcase my achievement but rather what one can achieve when one makes up his or her mind to do it.
On a side note, one of my friends pointed out that similarly, it is the process of courtship that is special to couples rather than the end result of being in an official relationship, isn't it? ; )
And sorry for the month long hiatus. Thanks for being patient all these while. You guys have been a blast. I am off to Bangkok the morning after. Hopefully, more interesting posts when I return. And to a certain you, enjoy yourself wherever you are. My thoughts are with you.
I have always envy these athletes; so graceful on the track, wild cheers from the stands as they cross the finishing line, a face of unmask joy peppered by beads of perspirations, the sweet savor of success by the medal holders.
I always wish that I could do likewise, joining them on the track, being part of their success, being in the limelight. That was me, fourteen years ago, a primary school kid wanting to be part of a 'cooler' group and basking in the glory for a change.
But I was never selected for school representation. It wasnt that I couldn’t run, I have always been among the fastest in my class. To the teachers, I have never fitted into the profile of a runner. Being short, skinny and geeky certainly did not help.
Whenever I crouch on the field ready to spring at the sound of the whistle, a message will flash across my head, like a searing hot iron, "Run, run like the wind and don’t look back.." Over and over again I repeated it in my mind as I dash towards the finishing line. Glory was non-existent and the feeling of winning empty for it was merely a physical education class. I realized it takes a bigger stage to bring about the elevated feelings of winning.
And thus I ended my primary school on a note that I have never won anything of real significance.
I was thirteen when I was spotted (finally) by my PE teacher in my new secondary school. He asked me to go for a trial. I didn’t turn up. I was alone in a new environment, and I didn’t feel I was up to the task. I guess it was a different scenario when you are in a primary school and the older boys don’t seem that much bigger and when you are thirteen and standing besides secondary four men that are so much taller than myself.
I was seventeen when I finally corrected the low perception of myself. I was still short and skinny. Nothing much has changed. But I wanted to give it a shot because I realize that was probably the only (and last) chance of me trying out athletics.
The first medal I won was a bronze in the 800 meters. I was 17. Success was sweet, although I lost out on the gold and silver after being over taken at the 100m. I was the junior racing against a field of senior. Third placing was already a high order and remains one of my fondest memories.
After that bronze model, I carried on training, biding my time, searching for the elusive gold. I was doing my warm ups in lane 4 of the track, stretching and jumping like every other day of my training sessions for the past year.
"Run, run like the wind and don’t look back" I repeated to myself as the crack of the pistol sounded. Fifty-seven seconds and 400 meters later, I glanced across my shoulders and notice I was a body length ahead of the next guy as I crossed the finishing line.
I have done what I set out to do eight years ago but the feeling of winning was hollower that I thought. It dawned on me that it was the process rather than the result that was sweeter. Reaching the end of the destination had a sort of hollow ring to it.
Success might not come tomorrow; it might not even arrive eight years later. However, it is the process of trying and overcoming the odds that makes it all the worthwhile.
This post is not meant to showcase my achievement but rather what one can achieve when one makes up his or her mind to do it.
On a side note, one of my friends pointed out that similarly, it is the process of courtship that is special to couples rather than the end result of being in an official relationship, isn't it? ; )
And sorry for the month long hiatus. Thanks for being patient all these while. You guys have been a blast. I am off to Bangkok the morning after. Hopefully, more interesting posts when I return. And to a certain you, enjoy yourself wherever you are. My thoughts are with you.
posted by Zen at 12:20 am
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