My Trophies
Growing up, I had always prided myself on being the fastest runner in our neighborhood, a title I had earned through countless races against my friends, siblings, and cousins. Most evenings, we would gather in the yard, racing until the sun dipped below the horizon. I was the champion, always crossing the finish line first, my friends running behind me. I was an upcoming Usain Bolt.
However, this time was different. It was duribg inter-house competition for my SS2 class, a much bigger event that included not just my classmates but older students from SS3 set and even some from lower classes. I had talked about the big game to friends, boasting to my family about my outstanding running capabilities and how I was sure I’d bring home the trophy. I could already visualize my moment of glory, holding that trophy high above my head while my friends cheered me on.
The day of the race arrived, and as I warmed up, I felt a blend of confidence and nervous energy. I practiced with my team, strategizing how we could outpace our rivals. But as the test runs progressed, I quickly realized that things might not go as smoothly as I had imagined.
During one of our practice laps, we lined up, ready to take off. As the whistle blew, I dashed forward, ready to leave everyone in my dust. Yet, within moments, the two boys in front of me, a shorter one with surprising speed and one slim kid whose long legs seemed to propel him forward, were already miles ahead. I pushed harder, but no matter how fast I ran, they continued to widen the gap.
With every step, disappointment washed over me. I had underestimated both of them, especially the shorter boy, who was ahead as if he were a true athlete. As I watched them pull further away, the ease with which they ran remained a reminder of my overconfidence.
“Was I really that fast?” I thought, the reality settling in. I felt embarrassed and frustrated; my dreams of winning that trophy was gone in the air.
I gave up instantly on partaking in the running competition any longer and joined long jump team.
However, this time was different. It was duribg inter-house competition for my SS2 class, a much bigger event that included not just my classmates but older students from SS3 set and even some from lower classes. I had talked about the big game to friends, boasting to my family about my outstanding running capabilities and how I was sure I’d bring home the trophy. I could already visualize my moment of glory, holding that trophy high above my head while my friends cheered me on.
The day of the race arrived, and as I warmed up, I felt a blend of confidence and nervous energy. I practiced with my team, strategizing how we could outpace our rivals. But as the test runs progressed, I quickly realized that things might not go as smoothly as I had imagined.
During one of our practice laps, we lined up, ready to take off. As the whistle blew, I dashed forward, ready to leave everyone in my dust. Yet, within moments, the two boys in front of me, a shorter one with surprising speed and one slim kid whose long legs seemed to propel him forward, were already miles ahead. I pushed harder, but no matter how fast I ran, they continued to widen the gap.
With every step, disappointment washed over me. I had underestimated both of them, especially the shorter boy, who was ahead as if he were a true athlete. As I watched them pull further away, the ease with which they ran remained a reminder of my overconfidence.
“Was I really that fast?” I thought, the reality settling in. I felt embarrassed and frustrated; my dreams of winning that trophy was gone in the air.
I gave up instantly on partaking in the running competition any longer and joined long jump team.
