The Big Run

He stood with six boys on his right, three on his left. The chalk line on the ground, which formed ten lanes, stretched ahead of him for 100m. His physical education teacher was making sure that all the boys were behind the start line. The gunshot to signal the race start would soon be heard. He had never felt this excited before!

Seven year old Rohan looked around at the crowd, who were all seated in stands around the running track. He couldn’t tell how many were gathered, but there sure were a lot of people in the ground. The entire school – teachers and students – and the parents of the students were all at the ground for the annual sports meet. Though he tried hard to spot his parents and his brother in the crowd, he could hardly make out the distant faces. But he knew they’d be there somewhere; they surely wouldn’t miss his biggest race yet.

Running was natural to Rohan, like a second nature to him. In every previous round, he had run faster than many boys who were older and bigger than him, and had always finished first. He was looking forward to this day for nearly a month now; a month in which he had run every morning along with his father in his favourite black shoes. Now wearing the same black shoes in the finals of his age category, he heard his name announced, “…standing in lane four is Rohan, from class 4-C.”

Rohan, jumping slightly up and down to keep himself active, couldn’t stop smiling. He had watched such races on T.V before. But never had he thought about being involved in one. He wanted to run the fastest he ever had, just like Usain Bolt (of course he knew that Usain Bolt is the world’s fastest man ever). A thought enters his head. Maybe he’ll even do the Bolt celebration at the end! The name of the last boy in the lane was announced. It was now time to concentrate. The gunshot was just moments away. Then he heard the voice of his physical education teacher from his left.

“On your mark!” Head forward, he got into his stance.

“Get set!” He was only seeing ahead. All his focus was on the stretched finish line ahead.

CRACK! The gun exploded. And so did Rohan.

He has put all his strength into his legs. Madly swung his arms back and forth. Breathing became extremely quick. He was thinking about nothing. The taut finish line was getting closer and closer.

Only a few metres away from the finish line, Rohan gave everything he’d got. He felt certain that he’d be the first! And just when this thought crossed his mind, he saw the finish line slacken. He knew that he was not the first across the line.

His momentum took him another 20m forward. Out of breath, he jogged and eventually came to a halt. There was a numbness spreading through him. A numbness which the gut bursting dash had nothing to do with. He was feeling strange, because he was feeling like he never had before. Hands on his hips, breathing heavily, head bowed down, he realized he’d finished second.

But no, how could he finish second? He was so confident that he’d win. He was always first. Second place now! Was this how second place felt? Didn’t he finish ahead of eight other runners? Did that count to nothing? Was all his training in vain now? Should he have trained harder? Why were his friends congratulating him? Didn’t they see how he hadn’t won? These and many other such thoughts plagued his young mind. He felt extraordinarily tired and dejected. This was something running had never done to him before.

He found a spot relatively free of people and sat by himself. He couldn’t get himself to see the rest of the runs. Not that he wanted to actually see them. He didn’t want to stay there, nor did he want to move from his place. Though thirsty, he didn’t want water. Though hungry, he didn’t want a bite. The confused boy sat there, wondering why he didn’t run faster.

“…in second place is Rohan from class 4-C!” He heard his name announced again. Somehow, that put a smile on his face. He jogged slowly towards the podium. Realizing suddenly how much he likes to run, the jog turned to a run. On the podium, he continued to smile though he wasn’t really sure why. He did not realize that he’d learnt an important lesson that day: that you cannot always be the winner in running. Little did he know that the silver medal now around his neck will serve him as a reminder in the future to apply that lesson to his life too.

Thanks to Shwetha Krishnamurthy for the idea!