Flashback

Last night, while I was cooking, and by cooking, I mean microwaving dinner, I was watching The Voice on TV.  As I was watching it, I suddenly felt kinda sad that one of these two singers battling it out on stage had to lose.  This triggered a conflicting inner monologue which eventually ended with, "That's just they way it has to be."

Now, for a television show that I had never actually watched up until ten minutes ago, I was becoming far too emotionally attached to have even cared.  And then, out of nowhere.  I suddenly had a repressed memory flashback to when I was five years old.  It was the annual "Fun Run." 

With the risk of sounding like I'm bragging, I am.  You see, I have always been a very fast runner.  My whole life, people have likened me to that of a gazelle.  My awkwardly long and gangly body, somehow displayed swift grace when all parts were moving synchronously forward.

Now, if you're not familiar with track races, there are several different "heats."  The winners of each heat then run in the final event to determine the overall winner.  For my first race of the "Fun Run", I ran as fast as I could, and won.  I caught my breath, as my Mom and Dad hugged and congratulated me, and then waited under the glaring sun for the final heat.

When it was time, I stood up at the white chalked line, drawn on the dry grass.   My body was engaged.  My fists were clenched, my knees were in starting position.  My heart felt as though it was already racing; I was nervous.  With the words, "On your mark, get set, GO!"  I leaped into the air instantaneously, as my legs quickly propelled me forward.  There was no one in front of me.  There was no one beside me.  I was in the lead, and only a few steps away from the finish line when something suddenly came over me.  I didn't want to win.  I would feel bad if I won twice.  Someone else should win, I thought.  So, in an instant, my heart slowed down my legs.  Just enough, to take second place.

When the award ceremony rolled around, I regretfully watched first place collect her shiny gold trophy, as I received my red ribbon.
 

I don't know why, but I've always remembered that.  It's just one of those moments that stands out, in a distant childhood where memories blur together or simply fade away.  For the first time in my life, I knew regret.  I knew I let myself down.  But it was a good lesson to learn at a young age because from then on, I've always tried my very best.  Win. Or lose.

The abilities we are born with are very special gifts.  We should never punish ourselves for having them, or try to hide them.  Rather, they should be celebrated.  If you can sing, sing.  If you can write, write.  If you can swim, swim.  And if you can run?  Run like the wind child.