Smile for imperfection Today, I stand on this scarlet running track once again. This time, despite the discordant noises of laughter, shouts and mechanical speakers around me, I feela sense of tranquility from within. Time stands still and I am transported back to this exact scene, two years ago. As an eager Year 10 student, I had been selected as their runner. Contrary to other people’s illusion, I knew that I was not a talented athlete, despite my lanky, racing-horse legs. I could do nothing but accept. At the starting point that morning, my shaking legs and sweaty hands reflected my fear of those five laps ahead. After the gun shot, I mechanically launched myself forward, though my feet felt like lead weights. Everything was a blur of sound and color as I forced myself forward with my throat burning and heart thumping. “Just one step, then another,” I coaxed myself. Through the four laps, I never raised my head, but then for a split second, I felt elation. Not one lane runner could be seen. Had I won? But then reality hit. Sprawled around the finish line lay the conquerors. I was the last! Instead of being disappointed, I smiled. I smiled not only at my foolishness but at my accomplishment. Looking up at the winner standing proudly on the podium, I did applaud her, butI also applauded myself. I realized that I did not need to be the first in every race. Somebody was the winner, so there had to be a looser,too. It was also a position. The point was that I tried, with all my heart. I hadn’t won this race, but there were many more of life’s races ahead.If I could stop trying to win every race, perhaps I could even enjoy life more. So, after two years, I am back here in the same lane, with anew mindset. The color of the lane has faded a little now, but my lifehas become more colorful sinceembracing my imperfections.
