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The Race
or
Failure is Not Failure If You Tried Your Best
stories by GoldFrost
In the middle of a foot race you see the guy in first
place die out and take last place. Is that failure? Not necessarily.
In my opinion, failure is not being able to do something while putting
little effort into it. If you couldn't do something yet you put your
best into it, then it isn't failure.
I learned this when I was in my second year of high school.
I joined our high school track team in hopes of showing people that
I was as athletically good if not better than most other people.
Besides, the good athlete's image was always with the best looking
girls.
I signed on as a sprinter in the 100-yard and 220-yard
dashes. I was more interested in getting it over quickly, rather
than having to prolong the agony, sometimes humiliation, as long
distance runners do. The training was strenuous: having to run a
mile for warm-up; a mile for cool down, and (for the 220-yard dash)
six 220 dashes where the only break was jogging back to the start
from the finish. But I kept it up, because I wanted to prove to myself,
and others, that I could do it.
After the first few track meets I saw myself improving.
Already I was better than some of the guys who have been on the team
longer than I. The coach would keep encouraging me, saying,
"Keep it up! You're doing good!"
I would think to myself, "Heck, this ain't so bad.
I could do this backwards."
But the real test was yet to come.
Towards the end of the season we had a cross-town rivalry
for regional runoffs. It was a cool so we had to wear our sweatsuits
to keep warm and from pulling any muscles. I just finished a 100-yard
dash in which I placed third. It made me feel good in being able
to beat most of the other runners.
I was doing some warm-up exercises before my 220-yard
dash came up. The coach came over with a grave look on his face.
He said, "Gary, I pulled you off the 220. Our last
man in the mile relay pulled a muscle ..."
I thought, 'Uh-oh, I don't want to hear this.'
"... and I want you to run the anchor leg," he
finished.
To run a leg in the mile relay was to run 440 yards.
I wasn't trained for that, I didn't want to train for that.
I pleaded, "But coach, I was trained for 220-yards
max!"
"Just pace yourself. I have confidence in you," he
concluded and walked away.
Fine. So I had to run in the mile relay, let alone the
guy who's suppose to finish.
'Well,' I thought, 'maybe if the rest of the relay team
could get so far ahead that AI wouldn't have to worry how to do it.'
Maybe.
The mile relay was the second to the last event so I
had to wait most of the afternoon with butterflies in my stomach.
I practiced receiving the baton and how to pace myself in the receiving
zone. I kept thinking,
'I can do this. I can do this. I can at least keep up
with everyone else, maybe even pull ahead. The coach is depending
on me, everyone will be watching. No problem, no problem.'
Finally, it came.
"Gary get ready!" someone yelled.
I jogged over to my place, no problem.
"By the way, how do I receive the baton?" I
jested.
Someone moaned.
Uh-oh, here he comes. I'm on the track.
"Start running!" someone yelled. I complied.
'Put your left had down' I thought to myself.
PLOP! The baton lands firmly in my hand and I'm off.
I'm tied with someone else going into the first turn. System check:
breathing normal, heart normal, feet okay, everything normal. No
problem, I pulled out of the turn ahead of everyone else.
'Can do it backwards,' thinking to myself.
Approaching the 220-yard mark. WAIT! Normal for what?!
A 220-yard dash, not 440-yards! Problems! Passed 220-yards; Mayday!
Mayday! Fatigue setting in! Feet getting heavy!
VROOM! First guy passes me.
"C'mon Gary!" screams my team.
VROOM! Second guy passes me.
"HURRY!" they yelled.
VROOM! VROOM! Last two guys pass me.
"AAAAAHHHH!" they moaned.
"Hey, I tried. I wasn't trained for a 440-yard run," I
panted.
On the long ride back home I sat quietly on the bus.
They didn't blame me, they knew I didn't have the training. Some
of them felt I failed, others felt I did my best. What else could
I do? And that's it, I didn't fail.
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