We all have that childhood memory we will never forget. I have several, but there is a particular one I consider my favorite.
My favorite childhood memory was when I won a gold medal in my school's sports competition for the first time. I was a little boy back then. My school was organizing a sporting event. Parents were invited to attend.
The event had various competitions. The students of the school were randomly divided into teams called houses. Each house was named according to colors. So there was Yellow house, Red house, Green house, and White House.
I was put in the yellow house. In preparation for the event, each house met every day to select athletes that would represent them and also to train.
To my surprise, the leader of my house selected me for the race category for my age bracket. I had never participated in any sport before. I was nervous about it at first. I remember telling my mom about it, and she encouraged me to do it. She put a lot of faith in me.
I guess that was the motivation I needed. I decided to accept the challenge. I trained very hard. I tried to improve my endurance and speed. Apart from the group training my house usually had, I also trained personally.
The day of the event finally came. There were so many competitions and the various houses all competed against each other for a medal. The time finally came for the race. It was the last competition for the event.
Everyone looked forward to it. The medals table was updated, and my house was in second place. If I could win a gold medal in that race, my house would lead in the medals table.
The athletes took their position. I stood there, and I could see all eyes were on us. My friends, my teachers, and even my parents were all looking at me. My heart began racing even before the race started. I knew I was anxious. But I had to shrug it off.
The bell rang and the race began. Everyone was cheering us on. Every athlete could feel the pressure to win the race. Halfway into the race, I was third. I was beginning to get tired. My heart was pumping so vigorously that I felt it was going to pop out. Then I remembered the medals table and how my house depended on me to win.
Suddenly, it was as if I had a surge of adrenaline. With the last bit of strength in me, I picked up my pace and went past the two athletes in front of me, then I crossed the finish line. I couldn't believe it. I won the race. Everyone cheered even louder. I could see the joy in my mom's face. She was so proud.
My housemates came meet me and lifted me up, celebrating with me. I had won them the event. I got a lot of gifts, both from the school, my housemates and my parents.
For a week, I was the star. It felt so good. It is a memory I have held on to all this while, and I will never forget it. This memory reminds me that when you work hard for something, you will achieve it.
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