Anotida Musiya, Grade 9
UWCSA (Waterford)
It was sweltering hot, and inevitably sweat oozed from my pores. As one of the athletes who were taking part in the competitions, adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt like my heart was pumping right out of my chest. I was so gut-wrenchingly nervous that my legs felt like jello, which was a bad thing because I was about to run a 100m race for the “best” house in the school, Henderson. I was not one hundred percent certain that it was because it was my first year at the profound United World College of South Africa.
First off, the juniors ran, and their feet majestically flew over the lush green grass. The fact that I was in form four, and the speed at which the juniors’ feet quickly kissed the land had intimidated me did not help with my trepidation at all. When my turn to run neared, a friend of mine finally noticed that I was uneasy, and my legs were shaking like reeds under rushing water. He came and assured me that I would do great and told me to break a leg.
I firmly held onto those thoughtful words, and I felt way better. I approached my starting mark with one goal in mind, winning. “On your mark!” the pot-bellied man exclaimed. At this point, I could not feel anything at all. “Get set!” he went on, my legs were like a loaded weapon, ready to fire. ‘Click’ The gun was jammed. I had already stridden about 2 meters, and other racers had done the same. We chuckled with crimson red faces and returned to our starting points. The man with the protruding stomach also had a giggle, then we restarted the whole process.
This time the gun worked, and I do not know if I was happy or sad about it, but I was off like a cheetah after its prey. The crowds were electrifying, I could hear people chanting my name in the distance, and that fueled my energy. Perhaps a little while ago, I would have balked at the idea of running so fast, now I relish the prospect. I was gone like a freight train. About 50m into the race, an excruciating pain seeped into my right hamstring. I had pulled it, and there was no hiding such pain. How ironic, I was told to break a leg, and almost I did exactly that. I could not run anymore, but like a soldier, I slowly hopped to the finish line. The crowds went from the exhilaration one would undergo at their favourite artist's concert to an empathetic clap of encouragement. I felt like a loser because I came last, but the tender-hearted students who assisted me at the finish line cheered me up.
In the end, my house, Henderson, came in last, and I could not help but blame myself. Although it was not entirely my fault, guilt still clouded my mind. Guedge was second, and Stern came in first; consequently, loud sequential jovial cheers were slammed into our faces by the Stern house for another week or so. Despite all that happened that day, I enjoyed experiencing bewildering speed, great sportsmanship from my rivals and teammates, and being bolstered up by all the people in the stands. It was a memorable experience.
First off, the juniors ran, and their feet majestically flew over the lush green grass. The fact that I was in form four, and the speed at which the juniors’ feet quickly kissed the land had intimidated me did not help with my trepidation at all. When my turn to run neared, a friend of mine finally noticed that I was uneasy, and my legs were shaking like reeds under rushing water. He came and assured me that I would do great and told me to break a leg.
I firmly held onto those thoughtful words, and I felt way better. I approached my starting mark with one goal in mind, winning. “On your mark!” the pot-bellied man exclaimed. At this point, I could not feel anything at all. “Get set!” he went on, my legs were like a loaded weapon, ready to fire. ‘Click’ The gun was jammed. I had already stridden about 2 meters, and other racers had done the same. We chuckled with crimson red faces and returned to our starting points. The man with the protruding stomach also had a giggle, then we restarted the whole process.
This time the gun worked, and I do not know if I was happy or sad about it, but I was off like a cheetah after its prey. The crowds were electrifying, I could hear people chanting my name in the distance, and that fueled my energy. Perhaps a little while ago, I would have balked at the idea of running so fast, now I relish the prospect. I was gone like a freight train. About 50m into the race, an excruciating pain seeped into my right hamstring. I had pulled it, and there was no hiding such pain. How ironic, I was told to break a leg, and almost I did exactly that. I could not run anymore, but like a soldier, I slowly hopped to the finish line. The crowds went from the exhilaration one would undergo at their favourite artist's concert to an empathetic clap of encouragement. I felt like a loser because I came last, but the tender-hearted students who assisted me at the finish line cheered me up.
In the end, my house, Henderson, came in last, and I could not help but blame myself. Although it was not entirely my fault, guilt still clouded my mind. Guedge was second, and Stern came in first; consequently, loud sequential jovial cheers were slammed into our faces by the Stern house for another week or so. Despite all that happened that day, I enjoyed experiencing bewildering speed, great sportsmanship from my rivals and teammates, and being bolstered up by all the people in the stands. It was a memorable experience.
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