Sports Day

The day started out bright and sunny. Things were looking good for the school sports day. Why then, was my stomach in a knot, and why was the feeling of dread slowly making its way from my toes, right up to the tip of my head?

I remembered previous sports days with distain. The images which conjured up left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was highly competitive, but unfortunately, not very athletic. I tried so hard and gave it my all, but I was just not one of those kids who could run really fast.

How I longed to feel the clatter of medals hanging around my neck, even one, one medal would have done. It would have rewarded me with the knowledge that to an eight year old, it IS all about the winning, and not about the taking part!

I did come close one year, in the 100m I think it was. As there was over 30 kids in my class the 100m was run in heats, with the top three from each heat competing in the final. I shot of the starting mark. I ran like the wind. I sprinted until my legs burned. I passed them all out. What happened to me? How was I achieving this remarkable feat? I saw a dog! I saw an unleashed dog on the outfield, and my crippling fear of dogs for once did not freeze me, but had the opposite effect. I ran faster than I had ever run in my life before. I came second in that race, and now qualified for the final. I was ecstatic, overjoyed and full of confidence that I was in fact, as good as all the others.

I proudly took my place in the line-up for the 100m final. I convinced myself that I was truly a fine athlete. I had never before been in such an honoured position and I revelled in it.

Ready, Steady, Go! Ok the whistle blew. Off I ran. Running and sprinting, making my mark on the field, and pushing it until I thought my heart would burst. I looked over to my left, oops, lots of people passing me on that side. Over on my right it didn’t look much better. I crossed the finish line in last place, quite a way behind the others. Suddenly I was back to where I was supposed to be. All was right with the world again. The sun would dawn and set, the tides would rise and fall and I would once again be the girl who took part in sports day for the "taking part that counts" part, not the "winning" part.

Someone had put that dog back on its lead. The fear had gone. My motivation, however irrational, had been reigned in. Dam that dog for building up my hopes during the heats, and then cruelly taking them away for the final.

So now here I am, 27 years later, still in fear of sports day. I am standing at the side lines with my heart breaking, as I watch my children run their races. Fifth, sixth and sometimes last. My children have inherited my athletic ability. I wish that someone would let a dog loose on the outfield. Something to make them sprint and run all the way to the medals, just once.