When I was in track in high school, my coach would tell me that everything was 75% mental and the rest was physical. I remember an instance when my parents finally came to my first and last meet. I begged for them to watch me run, and finally they showed up one day after 3 years of being in the team. My mother was getting impatient bc our race was delayed and ended up leaving to go back to the car. My dad said he couldn't wait anymore either and they both left. My heart sunk and 20 minutes later I was on the track, crouched on the starting blocks, the bang of the gun, and I took off running. The sorrow I felt, heavy in my heart, bursted and I exploded across the track, beating my personal record, little tears streaming down my face. I was proud, but not really at the same time. I carried my first place ribbon and caught a ride back on the bus.
"How did you do?"
"I got first. " In my head, I knew it was the power of disappointment that drove me to soar to the finish line. I did wonder how things may have panned out had they stayed. Would the power of impressing them move me as fast as the rage I had? I'll never really know because they never came to another race.
Now, sometimes challenges can help with success in my childhood story. Challenges test our strength to prevail and to work with the circumstance and knowing how to adapt. Knowing that certain things won't ever change in the case of my parents, they never came to another one of my track races or marathons. But I learned it was okay.
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