However, the certainty of every race is the competitiveness attached thereto, often requiring extra effort or motivation to win. But I dare to say that some people enter into some races for the fun of it and may not necessarily show maximum competitiveness. A few people, however, believe that they are not in competition with anyone and thus take their time while doing what they want, moving at their own pace.
My most outstanding race was in high school, sometime in 2005, when I participated in a relay race. I was a moderate sprinter, good enough at least to represent my house team. Relay races are mostly focused on a good start and a good finish. All four members of the team are important, but priority is given to the extremes, the first and last legs. For some reasons I can't remember now, I was given the last leg, which meant I was to finish the race. This was not going to be a problem since I knew my team's first leg was a good sprinter, but the challenge was that another competitor named Kennedy, also at the last leg, was a better sprinter than me.
Being at the same level as Kennedy in the relay race made me feel less confident in myself. I was very intimidated, knowing fully well that my chance at winning the race was slim. However, the race was not only about me; it was a team race, and I needed to play my part as best as I could. We all positioned ourselves at our respective tracks, and Kennedy seemed to have the confidence of the audience; after all, he was good and among the best in school. The whistle blew, and all the runners sped like lightning. But the rave took an unusual turn; my team's first leg marveled us all by putting a significant distance between him and other runners. This was unexpectedly welcomed, and for a moment, hope for the crown was in sight. My team's first leg got the applause of the audience, and a loyalty shift brewed in the air as the chant swayed towards my team.
Initially, my plan was to play my part in the race, but with the motivation and efforts put forth by my other team members, I made a conscious decision to do whatever it took to win the crown, this time for my team and not just me. It was at the exchange of batons, with the gaps still fairly maintained, that I realized the race was no longer just about me but about my team and making them proud, irrespective of the obvious challenge—Kennedy, to be precise. The second leg of the race did well even though the gap was gradually closing, and the third leg equally maintained the gap for the team.
My first advantage was collecting the baton before the other fourth legs in the race and, most especially, before Kennedy. The second advantage was the significant gap that existed between myself and Kennedy. I felt an electric wave pass through me as I swayed the baton and ran to the finish line. Many thoughts ran through my mind, and between my heart and my legs, I could not conclude which ran faster. Winning for my team was at stake, and the cheers and chants from the highly spirited audience only motivated me to give anything more than my best. This was the first time I ran with my eyes closed, channeling all the energy I had into my legs, conscious of the footsteps of Kennedy right behind me. I hit the finish line for the first position and was the winner, to the clapping cheers of the audience and house team members waiting to celebrate me. I enjoyed much admiration and felt like a champion. I was given some glucose to revitalize my wasted energy.
Races bring out a doggedness in us, sometimes a determination to get the crown. I learned to focus on the endpoint and have little or no distractions. Sometimes, finishing a race does not translate to winning, rather, it's the feeling of satisfaction we have when the race is finished.
You can share your race story through today's monthly #inleo prompts, which can be found HERE
Thank you for reading. I would love to have your comments and contributions.
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