Boom. Boom. Boom.

The music was so loud my eardrums hurt. Pop blared from the
speakers, shaking the ground. This, added to the roar of the crowd,
was too much for me to take. Stadium lights blinded me, and I felt
uneasy. I could hear my name being chanted by the eager
spectators. With my fellow competitors, I jogged over to the starting
line.
I was always a good runner, but never a good competitor.
Since young, I was always a sore loser. I hated losing. I used to train
very hard to avoid losing. Hence, I could run fast but whenever
someone outran me, I would throw a huge tantrum until my
opponent gave in and let me win. I was difficult to be around with,
especially with a big bunch of over-competitive friends who loved to
challenge each other. I was really someone whom everyone else
didnt like. That was until my dad spoke to me.
Daniel, he sighed. Why wont you be like the other kids.
Admit you lose, try again. You think no one loses in their lives?
Everyone does. So be a man! Youre a coward, Dan. He had a frown
plastered on his forehead. I was taken aback by my own dad. Wha-?
He just whacked me in the face by telling me I was a coward. My
own dad. Called me a coward. From that day on, I just kept hearing
his voice beside me. Youre a coward, Dan. I started to accept
failures and losses more open-mindedly. I wanted to be neither a
coward, nor an outcast, but someone who accepts things as they
come, like a man.
My dad changed me. It might seem dramatic to whoever is
reading this, but its the truth. Maybe it was the authoritative way it
came from his mouth, or the way he frowned at me. Words from
someone you love can sometimes change the way you behave and
think. I did not want my dad to see me as a coward.
Boom. Boom. Boom.

The noise from the speakers jolted me from my reverie. Here I

was, in the 28th Southeast Asian Games, representing Team
Singapore. So much has happened since ten years ago, when I was
that sore loser kid. I am now a professional sprinter, and I owe all
that I have achieved to my dad.
On your marks! The referee announced. We got into
position, crouching down, steadily poised on the tips of our toes,
ready to push off. Get set! he shouted. My palms were cold and
clammy, and my fingers slipped when I planted them on the ground.
I lifted my head, eyes on the gleaming trophy. My hearing was
dominated by my own heartbeat. The tense silence of the
spectators and runners waiting for the final cue filled the stadium.
For Singapore. For the trophy. For my Dad.
All was silent. All I could hear was the beating of my heart. All
that I could think of was to win this race.
BANG! The shot fired was so loud I nearly jumped backwards. I
burst forth with energy, my muscles working hard, my nose
breathing in air quickly. My hands and legs moved so fast they were
in a blur. However, despite all this, I was one of the last runners,
falling behind. Youre a coward, Dan. It was as if my dad was right
next to me. He would be disappointed seeing me the last. With new
found energy, I increased my speed. I shouted in my mind, FOR
SINGAPORE! FOR THE TROPHY! FOR DAD! I overtook two runners,
and had two more to go. I ran for my life, and finally came neck to
neck with the first runner. Indonesian. The finish line was a few
metres away, maybe seven or eight. I had to do it! After coming this
far, I had to win this, or I would not forgive myself.
AaaandThe finish line was right in front of me! I gave my
furthest leap. However, I broke past the finish line to find the
Indonesian runner a few centimetres ahead of me. The loudspeakers
blared again. It looks like we have a winner! Lets give it up for
INDONESIA!! The crowd roared again, but I was unsure if they were

doing it with anger or joy. I surveyed the multitude of spectators in

the stadium, their noisy cheers, screams and shouts.
I turned, hung my head and walked away, while the
Indonesian runner raised his arms in victory and ran around like a
monster on the loose. Losing - a part and parcel of life, was not
going to get in my way. I lifted my eyes to the sky and took a breath.
Indeed, every race is a new beginning. Every loss is a new
experience. I grinned as I thanked the Indonesian athlete silently in
my heart for giving me a new hope, a new chance to be humble and
a new experience to learn from.
~The End~