Well, indeed, now I can say, Red Bull does give you wings.
Imagine the tension as you walk through the stadium, knowing full well that this is the last competition of your life. Imagine walking down a road which you know you will never be able to walk through anymore. You have the gut feeling that something will happen to you, something will happen at the high jump pit on this day. Then the memories come back. Three years ago, on the same high jump pit, I failed to meet everyone's expectations, jumping a height of 1.48m, and failing to cross the next height, 1.53m. I attained 15th position, and I felt really sore, it was as if you worked and slogged your entire guys out just to jhave a label placed on you - failure. I was expected to cross a height of 1.58m. I expected less of myself - 1.53m - and I placed all my strength into this, my entire determination. I failed, I failed, I failed.
Subsequently, I placed even more effort into training - sacrificing my Term 1 results in Secondary 3. In Term 2, I managed to maintain a balance between the two, and I placed in effort in entirety during the June holidays, only to be told my juniors overtook me, and I was not the best for the job. Even worse, I fell down - and I still remembered the date, 23 June 2008 (the first day of term 3) - and this, once again, took yet another tool on my results, not being able to write for nuts. Needless to say, I failed my Secondary 3, and had to take the re-examination. I finally went back to train in the middle of November, and thanks to my injury, which manifested itself as a nerve/ligament/tendon injury (the doctors are unsure, but they suspect it is a tendon or ligament, yet we cannot rule out the nerve), I could not not write much for nuts. My results suffered even more as a result, until luring the beginning of Term 3, one week after my grandfather's death, Dr. Hon called me up, and he suggested me dropping chemistry. My parents took 2 weeks to consider, but I knew I had made my decision. I was not going to be Science student, that was decided by the end of Secondary 2. "Drop Chemistry" was the term surrounding my that particular decision.
Yet again, I was prevented from training, forbidden to go back to training until after the GCE 'O' Levels High Chinese Paper, and after THIMUN (working as an admin staff - of which I nicely attained a fever during that period). The date was the 25th of November, and I continued training into the December holidays, juggling between Track and OM (Odyssey of the Mind) - I never could have placed my 100% into anything. Through orientation, I was able to train, but when my timetable came out, alas! I could not train, for the timings clashed with my timetable.
Thus, back to the track. I had crossed the 1.75m mark (1cm below my previous personal best) and now was 1.80m. The odds were all against me. I had only trained once in the past two months. I was the shortest of all 15-or-so competitors, and high jump is a sport where your height affects how high you can jump. I had the emotional baggage of failure at the exact same spot, three years ago. The entire school was watching me. My friends from other schools knew I was jumping. Ah, heck. I ran, I did not cross.
But I had a second attempt. All these went through my mind as I drank the last sip of Red Bull.
"Competitor Number 2-7-6! Second attempt!"
My senior whacked me on the back, and said, "You better f***ing cross this. Do your best!" And with grace silence, I nodded and walked out. Everything was running through my brain. I had a lifetime's worth of setbacks, some controllable, for the lot of the rest, not. "Nicholas," I told myself, "Today's your last chance. Just cross that bloody height." I lifted my eyes to the heavens, and the school held their breath as I started running. As I entered into the last step, all the thoughts of failure vanquished, and the moment was crystal clear in my mind. Every ounce of energy, every sweat, every determination, was placed into the strength of thighs as I lifted myself up, and off the ground. I saw my head cross the pole, but I was unsure, and I kicked my legs back through to my body. The bar did not shake. The bar did not drop. Yet it did not register in my head. Hwa Chong screamed her song of exhilaration, and it finally kicked in. I flipped myself into the standing position and screamed. It was as if my whole life had led to this moment.
I am a failure no longer.
Labels: Nostalgia, Randomness, Story
