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The Race
I remember when I was younger, I used to really like playing sports or just generally doing physical activity. I eventually picked up running as a hobby and tried my best to get to the top. I remember one day a teacher came up to me and asked me if I wanted to compete in a small tournament; a school in Gjirokastra was hosting there. The tournament consisted of many different activities but the ones I was focusing on were the 100-meter and the 400-meter sprint. I immediately accepted the request and trained for the rest of the week to get myself in shape. I remember I’d even skip lunch sometimes to practice because I was so determined to win. My brother helped a bit but he mostly just observed and corrected some of my techniques. After a week had passed, I packed my things, headed to school, and the bus picked me up from there.
The bus I took had to pick up kids from other schools as well. Since Gjirokastra was fairly far away (around a 4-hour trip), I had time to talk with the other kids. Some were confident and some weren’t, but they all had a clear goal in mind; getting first place. We eventually arrived at the small stadium near the school that was hosting the tournament. The first thing I noticed was that it wasn’t in very good shape. It was a rough trail, hewn with numerous rocks that could cause runners to trip or be injured. Even though later they tried to clean it up a bit, I don’t think it really helped. Anyway, we met up with the teachers that had organized the entire thing. They were really excited and happy that a lot of people came and wished us good luck. They let us hang out a bit around the school and we later went to the small hotel close by to rest and prepare for the next day. I was extremely excited and nervous, but I was ready.
The time finally came. I woke up, got dressed up, and hurried down towards the stairs and road to the stadium. It wasn’t as big of an event as I thought it would’ve been. There were only around twenty other students and some teachers sitting and watching. First, it was the 100-meter sprint. I was confident in this one since I had done it countless times before while I was training. We all got in position and prepared for the countdown. As soon as the coach said “go,” I started running as fast as I could like my life depended on it. The only thing I could see was the finish line, and as soon as I reached it, I let out a sigh of relief. I had gotten first place and I was very proud of myself. The teachers and the other kids congratulated me.
I still wasn’t done. I was still aiming to get first place on the 400-meter sprint as well. We sat on the benches and took a small break. Everyone was too exhausted to talk so the entire area was silent. Some students came by to say hi and then after a while, we got up again. We got in position and prepared for the countdown. I was a lot more nervous about this one compared to the last race because I hadn’t practiced as much for the 400-meter sprint. As soon as the coach said “go,” I started running as fast as I could. About halfway through the race, a rock had entered my right shoe while I was running. The number of rocks eventually got up to 2 and then to many more. They were all really sharp and made me slow down significantly. I dropped to the last place but I wasn’t too far behind the others. I started running even with all the pain. I tried my best and managed to get 3rd place. I wasn’t too happy with the results but I wasn’t sad either. I sat down on the ground still feeling satisfied with myself when suddenly a huge amount of pain came to my right foot. I had to go to the hospital nearby to get it checked. I couldn’t walk for an entire week.
Before I left Gjirokastra, I met all the other kids and they all congratulated me and said that I did a good job of not giving up. I returned home with a medal and with my family cheering for me. I don’t think I would’ve felt the same way if I actually gave up.
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This story is written in the perspective of my dad.