The Value of Bronze

"When this flag goes down, start running like there's a wild crocodile chasing you." Standing at the starting line, I could feel my legs shaking in my Nike running shoes. "On your mark," I drew in a quick, shaky breath, "Get set," Quickly I checked my shoe laces to make sure they were tied in double knots, "Go!" The flag dropped, seemingly in slow motion, and the mob of girls at the starting line took off. Carefully, I set my pace, trying to enjoy the wind whipping my hair back and the brisk Autumn afternoon, but in the back of my mind there was a small nagging voice, "The entire school is counting on you," it said to me, "You have to win."

Everyone told me that I had a gift, but recently I had begun to think of it as a curse. Running had come easily for me in previous years, my mile times had been less than six minutes and I was the fastest girl in Lakeside, but this year was different. When I ran, my knees felt as though the bones were grinding together and my ankles as if there was no padding, my mile times were twenty seconds worse, I was no longer fastest in my class - even my teeth hurt after I ran. I wanted to give up running all together, but there was this horrible weight . . . this pressure . . . to be the best. My entire school, my parents, my P.E. teachers all expected me to be the fastest. Then I learned there was a track meet coming up. I was scared, for everyone just assumed I was going to win, although I knew I wouldn't . . . I couldn't win. Maybe, if I had the guts, I wouldn't show up at all.

I checked myself; I was running as fast as I could, breathing deeply, stepping lightly, lifting my knees . . . and yet I still wasn't winning. There were two girls ahead of me, two very fast girls, and as hard as I tried I couldn't pass them. I began to feel pain shooting up and down my legs. "Face it," that annoying voice in the back of my head told me, "You're going to lose." I tried to push that little voice away and tell myself that I could win-I had never lost before, but I knew I wasn't going to win the gold medal, if I was lucky I might get the bronze. Unfortunately, no one cares about third place. It's either first or nothing. I might as well not cross the finish line at all. My breathing became heavy as I wondered what everyone would think when I wasn't in the lead. They would all be upset with me, disappointed, I was going to let them all down. Putting forward my last burst of speed, I neared the finish line. Third place. It had actually happened. I had lost.

Twenty minutes after the race, my heart finally slowed down. When I first sat down, I had avoided everyone, hung my head, and hadn't made eye contact. Now, I looked down at the small medal in my hand and smiled. It was the first time that I wasn't holding the gold, yet somehow I didn't care. My P.E. teacher had just told me that he was proud of me, even though I hadn't won. To my surprise, everyone had treated me the same, I received pats on the back, high-fives and congratulations. It was then that I realized no one cared if I came in first place or thirty-first place, I had done my best and that was good enough. I had been running because I thought other people expected me to, and I didn't want to disappoint them. Now I knew that I should never do anything that I disliked if I didn't want to. That horrible pressure was lifted off my shoulders and I decided that I didn't absolutely despise running, although it was not exactly what I'd call fun.

That was the day I learned the value of bronze, for the bronze medal I received from that race outshone all of the gold medals I had ever won because it was the souvenir of a very important race - the race that had set me free. It showed me that I didn't have to do something I didn't like because I thought other people would be disappointed with me if I didn't. If I smiled and did my best, then that was good enough. Looking proudly at the sticker on the back that read, "Cross Country. 8^th Grade Girls. 3^rd Place." I smiled. Winning third place had taught me a very important lesson. I decided that I would compete in a race again. Looking at the bronze medal in my hand, I could already hear the man at the starting line, "When this flag goes down, start running like there's a wild crocodile chasing you..."