Contributed By Sandy | Published: Aug 15, 2004

My 800 failure
Every once and awhile the days feelings don't predict the outcome of your race.

Remembering back in my first year of high school I became so focused on baseball, football and basketball that I forgot my strength in athletics. I had joined the track team to prepare for my junior olympic invitation. It turned out to be one of those days. Sitting on the stadium bench after my 800 meter race, I thought about what might have been. It had been about a year since my last succesful race and this day certainly turned out to be far from any sucess.

Being invited to tryout for the Junior Olympics had been a fantastic boost to my ego, but for some reason the whole year had been a big let down. The reason for my tryout invitation turned out to be a record I had established in the 800 meter run when I was 14 years old. I had run a 2'21 and (to this day) the record still stood. I, of course, felt that after all those years I should still be able to run that 2'21 and about 10 or 20 seconds faster as I was two years older.

So, I joined the track team with a pretty cocky attitude. I thought I ruled the world. It turned out that I couldn't even rule my own talent. Actually, I think I lost my talent. Somehow I did manage to run some pretty decent times, but nowhere near the 2'21 accomplished 2 years earlier. I don't remember how or why, but for some reason I made it to the finals of the state boarding schools. The finals pulled together a bunch of all-stars but again, I have no reason why I ended up there.

The race started off at a very hectic pace and from the beginning my day could only get worse. My legs burned and my sides ached with stitches. I ran, but my legs didn't move much faster than a snail. The goup of obvious skilled runners pulled farther away from me and my legs still did not move any faster. I remember hearing the bell and my breathing increased to an uncomfortable level. I looked around as I passed the start/finish line and it seemed like everyone smirked at me. I felt extrememly dejected. I never quit any race in my life and this day turned out to be of no exception. I plodded down the track in last place. In fact, now that I look back, I never in my life had finished a race in last place.

I turned the final corner with my shoulders high and my heart low. What a waste of time but also what a horrible day. I just could not run any faster on this day. I remember my time 2'41. Twenty-seconds slower than my fastest time ever. The kicker - I was about 15 seconds from the winner. If I had trained harder the past two years, maintained my fitness level and dedication, and run like my talent had once displayed then maybe it would have been a different outcome.

Unfortunately, I would have a few more humbling experiences and no, I never did make it to the Junior Olympics.

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