Disappointment on the Track, Essay Example

The below essay is going to reflect on one of my childhood memories that have determined my thinking about success, world, competition, and giving up. The very words that my mother spoke to me just days earlier will always be remembered. The biggest day of my track and field career. I might not have won the race, but I gave it a hundred percent. My disappointment still haunts me today, but looking back, I believe that this experience has taught me that one should give a hundred percent – not for winning, but for themselves – all the time.

My mother’s words to me were “you win some, you lose some, but life goes on.” Those words were burned inside my head until it was time for my race. I remembered it every minute, and I woke up earlier then usual, because, the rays from the sun woke me up. While looking through my window, I knew right away that the weather was going to be magnificent, with no clouds in the sky. Within less than an hour, I was ready to head to see the coaches from other school. They were walking around the track thinking about their strategy to win the competition.

The spectators in the stand cheered for the favorite athletics. When it was finally my time to race, I positioned myself on the block, thinking hard to be still, not to go over the line, not to let go, wait for it, then all of the certain “BANG!” My reactions were just in time as I sprang out of the blocks.

The sun was beating down on my back as my feet repeatedly hit the blistering, red turf. With every step I took, my toes descended into the squishy, foul smelling surface, as my lung gasped for air. Everything felt the way it should, as I plunged toward my destination. I clutched the baton in my sweaty palm, promising myself not to let go. My legs moved me through the track as fast as a cheetah, as I hugged the corner of the line like the first time my father bought me a teddy bear.

My steps precisely calculated, just as planned. As I came closer to my final steps, my stomach started twisting and my heart beat began to rise. The different colors of arrows started to pass under my feet, and I knew it was time. “Reach” – I yelled to Vera, from whom I now seemed unusually far away. Yelling, “low down, slow down” turned into “stop!” Vera halted to a stop as the gold baton fell into her hand and she took off to sprint. The devil colored flag rose. We were disqualified for something that we all dreaded; going out of the exchange zone. I had never really been a part of a team that had a chance to win something before. Now, we had an opportunity, and we lost it. I finally got my chance to be a part of such a team my second-year on the track. Before the race, Mr. Marshall, the head track coach, had decided to experiment with some different races to gain more team points. Since the girls’ team lacked some runners with relay skills, he placed, Gertrude, Gladys, Vera and I in those spots. Gertrude would run the 400, Gladys would run the 200, and Vera and I start the race off with each of us running the 100 meters. We all had worked viciously to earn those spots by running off against our teammates. Going into the first race we had not expected much, since Vera and I had never run this type of competition. There were so many particular things we had to remember. It was not just to get out of the blocks and burn up the track; there was a baton involved, a certain amount of steps to take, and even a certain way to hold the baton. Being the one chosen to start off the race added a whole list of techniques that I had to master. I was worried about falling for a false start, dropping the baton, and losing the race for my teammates, before the race even started. My first task was to be quick and explosive out of the blocks; I could not leave too early or late. I also had to remember to not let go of the baton, which to me was like a golden egg, and keep it placed in the bottom portion of my palm. Our first time of running the medley was at the Queen City Invitational, and we were really happy for having the advantage of running on the chunky, black surface that we practiced every day. Everything went perfectly well, and we easily left our competition in the dust. The crowd was already accustomed to seeing the radiant blue uniform of Gertrude Formunung leaning towards the finish line, blowing away the competition. We knew early in the season that we were going to state competition, not only because we met the standard for pre-qualifying time, but we could simply sense that we deserved it.

Three months later, it was the day of the state competition at The University of North Carolina at Charlotte. I Woke up that morning feeling confident that the gold medal was coming home around our necks. We jogged and did our stretches exactly like we had done in the past race. Second call for the 3A women’s medley relay, second call. Report to the starting of the 100 meter dash, as we came together and prayed: “God, please let our feet be on fire today, and please let us go home with the gold, Amen.” The crowd clapped and stomped their feet as were approaching the line.  When I got to the line, I looked to my left and right. However, as I saw the extremely tall, long legged women from the other schools, my face changed, my heart started to beat faster and, my palms were covered in sweat. It was time to look ahead and not back. The man in the yellow shirt yelled: “ladies,  ready!” And then “BANG”.  I don’t know what happened, but I ran. I know I did not win the race, but I did my best. I gave my team all the support I could. And this is why I learned never to give up.