Winner

I've never been very competitive when it comes to sports. I don't think this is much of a surprise, considering how unathletic I am. With other things, I sometimes feel a sense of competition, because I think I have a chance at winning. But with sports, there is no chance, and thus, no need for me to try. It sounds very sad, but my life is actually a lot simpler this way.

However, even though I have never won anything sports related in my life, I'm happy to say that I have played a critical role in another athlete's victory. It was the year 2009, and I was volunteering for the Rhode Island Paralympics.

Now if you do the math, you'll realize that in 2009, I was 11 years old. There's not much that an 11 year old can do at functions like the Paralympics. I tried asking around for advice, but no one seemed to take me very seriously. I was told to just wait around and help out when I saw an opportunity. However, in the end, I felt rather useless, not to mention that my volunteer t-shirt was two sizes too big for me and went down to my knees. 

Nonetheless, I tried my best. My official name tag gave me courage, and I felt an immense sense of duty to serve. I looked everywhere for a way to contribute, flashing my lanyard, but there seemed to be no work for me. At most, I passed out a couple of information packets to some spectators who were too weak to say no to a ten year old kid.

Finally, after moping around for an hour, I found an unexciting, but legitimate job: escorting contestants into an arena. To be honest, I wasn't allowed to enter the waiting tent at first, because some of the older volunteers were skeptical of my abilities. But the thing was, I was somewhat tall for my age, and I had a good poker face. I realized that as long as it looked like I was doing something important, no one would really question me. 

So for most of the day, I continued guiding athletes to the arena, finally doing something valuable. 

Nonetheless, I faced the problem that afflicts nearly every 40 year old in America: I was dissatisfied in my work.

There wasn't any sense of accomplishment. My job ended when the athletes got to the arena and I returned to my tent. As the day dragged on, I started losing hope of ever doing anything meaningful.

Little did I know that my shining moment was soon to come with one single event: the wheelchair race.

One of the athletes needed someone to push them into the starting position at the arena. They must have been short on older volunteers, because they appointed me to the job. However, I was also strictly told to come right back to the tent once I was done. Completely overwhelmed with the opportunity to finally enter the arena, I happily obliged.

As I pushed my athlete in, I realized that she was unable to speak, and seemed rather confused by what was going on around her. Nonetheless, she seemed happy, and in my heart, I silently cheered her on. I rolled her into the starting position, took a long look around the arena, and then started my sad walk back to the tent.

Suddenly, one of the managers stopped me. Apparently the wheelchair race, as a precaution, required that one volunteer wait for each contestant at the finish line. Since I was the one who rolled her in, he assumed that I would also be the one to fill in this task. Immediately, my orders to "return to the tent immediately" flew out of my head. The crowd was cheering as the race was about to begin, and I saw my chance to serve my duty flash before my eyes. 

Putting on my best "I-know-what-I'm-doing" poker face, I nodded and took my place.

Now you would think that someone would have noticed an 11 year old girl among the rest of the significantly older volunteers, but it's surprising what kind of things slip one's mind in the heat of the moment. In fact, just as the race was about to begin, the volunteer right next to me finally realized that something wasn't right.

But it was too late. I was already in the zone.

As the race started, I was on hyper alert. I knew that the chances of me actually doing anything were very slim. It was a short distance, so it would take the contestants at most a minute to finish. Regardless, I watched my athlete diligently, looking for any opportunity for me to do something.

The race began without a hitch. The contestants were coming towards the finish line fast, and we cheered them on as they drew closer. In a matter of seconds, they were almost finished, and it seemed like I would once again serve little purpose. 

But suddenly, I noticed something. My contestant was rolling completely perpendicular to the intended route of travel.

In a panic, the head organizer yelled out that one of us needed to help put her back on the track. And at that moment, I felt immense power course through my veins.

I ran out onto the track to direct her back to the path. But by then, I had lost all logical sense, and wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be doing anymore. Before I knew it, I was pushing her at lightning speed past all the other racers, who gawked at me incredulously.

She looked very confused when we crossed the finish line, but happy nonetheless.

Needless to say, I was soon caught and thrown out of the arena for good. I did boring, mindless tasks for the rest of the day. But I'll never forget the brief glance I had of my racer on the podium, in first place, gleefully waving to the crowd. Some kind of connection flowed between us. And that was the only moment I've come close to winning an athletic competition. 

THE END