Personal Narrative - Crash and Burn

Personal Narrative - Crash and Burn

Some of the most successful people tend to say that the key to success is failure. This past May, I learned exactly what that meant.

It was the 2017 Track and Field Baseline League Finals. Physically, I was a bit fatigued after having qualified for the 400m dash and the 4x400m relay the previous day at League Prelims. That did not stop me however. All that was on my mind that day was making sure I would win and advance to CIF. There was a lot of pressure, knowing that I was up against two previous state champions. But luckily for me...I tend to thrive under pressure.

Finally, the grand moment, it was time to run the 4x400 relay, the last race of the day. My teammates and were on the field warming up and stretching, adrenaline rushing through our veins, foreheads were sweating, music was blasting. The announcer had finally called for all the teams to line up on the track. But the second my foot hit the rubber track, something changed. For the first time all season, I felt the forever unwanted feeling of nervousness.

I am the first leg of our relay but that never bothered me before. It was a cold evening yet my hands were so warm I was afraid the baton would slip right through my fingertips. I was wearing compression tights yet I still felt chilling breeze that made the hairs on my legs and arms stick straight up as if I were being electrocuted. I felt a disadvantage because I was on the very outside lane, away from the rest of the runners, away from the rest of the spectators, the college scouts, my supporters, my teammates, even the stadium lights. I was alone in the dark. But I had to stay focused, knowing I had too many people counting on me.

“Runners to your mark…” said the announcer. I got down into my blocks. “Set…” I could actually feel myself shaking. “POW!” All of my anxiety and fear was released with the sound of that gunshot. I dashed and ran as if someone fired the gunshot at me instead of in the air. “TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!” was all heard from the other ten legs chasing after me. My breathing was controlled, form was perfect, and I could already hear everyone in the bleachers screaming “Lets Go Ayo!!!”. That right there was all I needed to regain my confidence. Through the speakers I heard the announcer say “Etiwanda has the lead!” when suddenly, time started to slow down and I felt as if I had been shot in the back of my left leg. It was as if my hamstring were being twisted up like a DNA strand. I tried to ignore the sharp pain but every time my leg struck the ground, I wished someone would just amputate it right off. And before I knew it, I was already on the ground as the stampede hungry teenagers passed by. For the first time in almost ten years, a tear rolled down my face, not from the pain, but from the guilt and shame that I had been overcome with. People rushed onto the track to help carry me to the trainer’s tent to get checked out. I spoke to no one, avoided all eye contact. Before I left the stadium that night, one of the other athletes came up to me and said “Hey man it happens to the best of us”. This the left me with only one question on my mind for the rest of the night. Why me?