Pick a Word, Paint a Story #22

Hello everyone, this time I want to participate in a contest held by @senehasa with the theme "Choose a Word, Paint a Story #22." Continuing my previous post, I would like to invite my friends @neyistar23 , @sur-riti , and @xkool24 to participate in this contest.

Despite the early hour, the air was fresh, dew lined the tips of leaves, and roosters could be heard cawing back and forth. It was no common day for Raka on that day. He would be competing in a long-awaited sub-district-level running race that day. He had spent weeks training hard, rising before dawn, running around the village to keep in shape, watching his diet and staying away from his favorite fast food.

But Raka was truly elated not by the race alone. But that promise he’d made to himself: that he would not succumb before the end. He wasn’t the fastest runner at his school and was even bullied for running slowly. But, as it happened, the mockery lighted a flame of enthusiasm in his breast.

His mother, who usually sat on the veranda weaving pandan mats, gave Raka a prayerful smile when she said goodbye. “Remember, son,” she said softly, “winning or losing is all about the results. But fighting with all your heart is what makes me proud.”

Those words became additional fuel for Raka’s spirit. On the field where the race was held, the participants had gathered. Some were carrying large drinking bottles, some were accompanied by coaches, and some looked very confident. Meanwhile Raka had only worn plain black sports clothes and a battered old pair of shoes.

The runners all bolted when the whistle blew. Raka lagged behind, as trained. But he didn’t care. He knew his boundaries, and, perhaps more importantly, he knew his tempo.

He ran and ran, step by step. He started to pant, his legs started to feel heavy, but still he ran on. Some school children on the side of the track cheered. His call came from his younger brother who was holding a paper flag.

Raka’s spirit was rekindled. He thought of his every disciplined morning, every tired night, and a belief that he would show hard work paid off. In the final lap, he passed one fatigued runner after another. He was still not first, but also not last.

When Raka crossed the finish line, his body was wet with sweat, but his smile was large and lustrous. He didn’t win, but he posted his fastest time yet in the race. He got applause from several of the teachers who were there.

It might be a little thing for some people. But to Raka, it was a major victory. He learned that he could overcome laziness, self-doubt, and inferiority. He taught us that the spirit bounding right back up is stronger than anything that can flatten you. Since that day, Raka has become an inspiration at his school.