The one who believed in himself

One day I went jogging.
I had some time to kill and some goals to relive. I had spent my December holidays getting up at five am to prepare for a big race.

I would jog every morning, getting a little bit faster each time, growing a little bit more in dedication each time.

The day of the race arrived. It was a long distance run. 1 500 meters. Three and a half times around the field. My muscles tense in anticipation for the start pistol …

I came in third place for the race. So one day, I stepped out of the house with the intention of reliving that day, except this time it was just me versus myself. No crowds, no starting pistols. I stood on the road outside my gate and took off.

I could feel my heart beat faster as my feet pushed against the ground faster and faster, as if my battle was against the road itself, but no my battle was against myself as I reached the limit to my speed. I felt a fimilar grip on my heart. It was fear, it was disbelief: “I can’t do this, I’m not fast enough, I don’t think I should even try”, but a voice came up. First feint but growing louder: “do you really believe that? Why did you get up in those December mornings? Why did you enter that race? Do you really believe that?”.
“No I don’t. I believe I got up because I knew I could do this. I entered that race because I believed in my determination”.

I could feel the fear losing its grip on me.
I could feel my muscles working at their full potential to push me faster.
The battle against myself was won, I crawled back home in pain and in joy.

I learnt that our reality is a reflection of our believes. If we want to do anything, we need to believe in ourselves first. A little faith in ourselves goes a long way.


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