by Kok Shin Yu (P5 2023)

          As I buried myself under my blanket, the day’s events flashed across my mind intermittently like a broken tape recorder. As I shut my eyes, the day’s events unfolded…

          “Jay, Zavier, Gina and Jenny!” my PE teacher, Mrs Chua, exclaimed. “Four of you will represent our class in the relay race!”

          My class jeered as they glared at me. I was not only the slowest runner in class but I was also in a wheelchair most of the time. I had been diagnosed with muscular dystrophy since I was nine. Honestly, I could not blame them for jeering. I was quite amazed when Mrs Chua had chosen me. I used to be the fastest runner in class but, now, I ran like a turtle.

          “She will lose! You know we can’t lose the victory relay! We have a class record!” voices of protest echoed throughout the classroom. I buried my face in my hands, already feeling discouraged.

          Their words flew into my heart like a knife. After school, I made my way to the field. I pushed my wheelchair around at record speed. At last, I stood up and ran with all my might. My legs were sore and a sharp pain shot up my legs. Pearls of perspiration dripped down my face. Exhausted, I decided to end my day early and head back home, my heart sinking deep into the Pacific Ocean.

          The hot blazing sun shone on everyone. It felt like I was at my melting point. Reluctantly, I made my way to the warm up zone to stretch. With words of encouragement ringing in my head, I felt a renewed sense of determination, aiming to win the Victory Cup for my classmates.

          “Runners, to the starting line!” the announcer’s voice rang out.

          Our team made a beeline for the starting line. With a deafening blast from the starting pistol, the line of runners bolted from the block with a surge of energy. Evey arm swung back and forth like a nuclear-powered pendulum. The runners kept together as a pack, with no one willing to give up an inch. Our first runner, Jay, elongated his strides and was soon leading the rest of the competitors. With rhythmic breathing, Jay achieved a steady and commanding pace and was at least three seconds ahead. At the changeover zone, Jay held out the baton and shouted for Zavier to prepare to take over.

          With a firm tap, Zavier closed his fingers over the cool metal of the baton, grabbed onto it for dear life, and exploded forward. With every step he took, his foot crushed the running track beneath him, allowing the bounce from the rubbery surface to propel him forward. Zavier was so dominant that the spectators stood up from the bleachers and started applauding his run. Seeing Zavier close in on her changeover zone, Gina started running on the spot to warm up. Then, the changeover of the baton happened flawlessly, like clockwork.

          By then, our team had a huge five second lead on the runner in second place. I awaited my turn to run. Doubts filled my mind. What if my legs give way? What if I can’t keep our lead? I felt my confidence wither away as I prepared to take over the baton. Grinding my teeth, the cold hard baton was thrust into my palm. Ready or not, I had only one mission right now. It was do or die.

          In a blast, I sprang into action. My feet were pushing me fast and were as light as they could be. With rhythm, I kept running forward, not realising I was in first place! The spectators raised their flags like they meant to cheer me on. However, my dreams ended quickly. My legs gave in to sheer exhaustion and I fell on my face.

          I grimaced in pain, as crimson red blood oozed out of my raw open wounds. The red rubbery stones grazed my arms like a knife cutting through butter. Surely, that was the end. Suddenly, I felt a warm touch on my shoulders lifting me up. Gina and Zavier held onto me by the shoulders and Jay was supporting me up.

          “Go! Go! You can do it Jenny!” the spectators cheered boisterously.

          Hearing words of encouragement, I felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, and with Gina, Zavier and Jay’s help, I continued on with sheer determination.

          “Jenny! J-E-N-N-Y!” the cheerleaders boomed.

          A soft red ribbon touched my waist and before I knew it, I had finished the race! I shot my fist up in the sky as I heard peals of cheers from everyone. Although I did not win, I felt like I had won the world because being able to finish the race was what mattered the most.

          That day is the day I treasured the most. Not giving up was what mattered; it was not about winning. I will forever remember what determination means – persevering despite challenges!

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