LOSS
Losing in sport, by the stories and speeches of my class mates, seems as if it’s barely a loss. I, personally, wouldn’t know what losing in sport feels like, however when I think about that I question why.
Why?
Why haven’t I lost in sport? I participate in Track and Field (specifically the 100m, 4x100m, Triple Jump and Long Jump), and having so many competitiors in one event — unlike soccer — theoretically means there are less losers than winners. This probably contributes to my lack of losing, but also contributes to the reason why I play in these sports.
I’ve figured I enjoy participating in Track and Field events, because there’s a significantly lower chance that I walk out of the stadium with “last place” or “loser” slapped across my mind. I am afraid of losing. I am afraid of seeing my the efforts of my training and blood, sweat and tears not reward me with a ribbon or a medal.
Going into competitions I know will be challenging, I already accept the fact that I won’t be a podium finisher, and that even placing above last will be okay. It’s a competition like this that I really don’t have high hopes for, and give myself too much leniency for a bad performance. Last year at the Nitro Athletics, I pulled my hamstring in the first two seconds of the 80m sprint. Whilst placing second last in 3 combined timed heats, I felt “good” wearing a smile whilst hiding the thought that I could have done better.
Perhaps I considered loss different. Maybe it was just not winning. Towards the end of the year of 2018, I ran in the 4x100m Relay state finals. We finished 3rd, landing us a medal and onto the podium. I’ve heard a saying — that first place are happy they won, third place are happy they got a medal, and that second place are beating themselves because they could’ve done better. Whilst we didn’t finish second, I still felt that pain of loss and beat myself up for it. This time I wasn’t blaming the slippery artificial turf or the poor quality of my team’s change overs. This time I knew I could’ve done better.
Whilst my classmates were overseas or faced the intense Australian sun over the summer holidays, I went out to Lakeside Stadium 2–4 times a week to practice sprint training (in my opinion, the most physically draining training). This lead to my efforts at the House Athletics early this year, where I had the fastest combined heat for the 100m sprint.
When I hear my classmates’ speeches about losing in sport, I question whether the development of an athlete’s professional and/or personal skills come from the aftermath of a loss. I agree with that statement that loss can spark motivation to train up to be in a contending position for a win, and believe this applies to me very largely.
Whether its sports, academic, or even gaming — if I feel that I’m better than average I’ll think it’s enough. I believe it’s my lack of failure — that I’m only just scraping the bar — that I continue to just stay mediocre. And when I do fail I create excuses for my mistakes, and I know that. It’s only been recently that I’ve started to accept the consequences of my mistakes like my test results or a poor 400m time. It’s taught me that my drive for success is not necessarily to be the best, but to not be bad. It may be a punching call, but I’m still discovering this about myself.
