There is still another taunting two kilometres left to run. I am ahead of the pack, first place, yet I am tired. The tar on the road was as hard as rough as gravel, the sweat was trickling down as it my head was a cloud, pouring out rain and my shirt was like soil, soaking up sweat. The sole of my feet were being hammered like a nail each time they came in contact with the ground. My leg muscles were aching, gradually my shoulders were dropping and my pace which was as a fast as a deer, was now altering to as slow as a tortoise. My heart was pounding as if it attempted to break out of the rib cage. My stomach started to develop painful cramps, which felt like an excalibur being stabbed into my chest. My throat was as dry as a bone and I was dreaming of myself in the spring of heaven as the spit in my throat gradually started to block my throat.
The worst was yet to come; in hardly any time two other athletes had overtaken me, what was astounding was how elegantly and swiftly their run was. Both of the athletes showed no sign of tenderness or pain. Both these athletes continued to widen the gap as they started to accelerate like a racing car; I was looking down the barrel and heading towards the bronze medal. Would I even be able to attain bronze?
Everlastingly long, the finish line never seemed to come. The road I was running on seemed to go on and on as if it was a pathway to heaven, except in these circumstances it would have been considered a pathway to hell. I was running in such a bizarre manner, that one could easily have mistaken me for an injured soldier. "Thump, thump, thump" came a noise from behind me, as I looked behind I realised that even the bronze medal was at threat as another runner had started to catch up and was on my tail; there was only one option and that was to sprint and give it my absolute best till the very end. Reluctantly, I closed my eyes, told myself anything was possible and set off.
"At last" I exclaimed as I crossed the finish line. I fell to the ground and was gasping for breath, my blood seemed to rush rapidly and all of a sudden I started to feel dizzy. Breathing seemed to be an everest task as I was coughing and continuously spitting out flem. A medic then came to help by placing me in an ambulance and then by supplying me with Oxygen. I felt reviled and rescued, the race was over and I was now recovering and in the next couple of minutes I was going to be presented my bronze medal.
Even though I had not won the bronze medal which I had initially aspired for, I realised that winning the gold was beyond my capability. I had given a hundred percent, my absolute best and I was satisfied with my effort. I was content. From this day on my idea of success had changed. What I had realised is that being a champion isn't necessarily being on top, it's also about commitment and in the race I was committed, I gave it my best effort, I took it in the right spirit, I was sheer delighted with my result and therefore I am a champion.
