Regrets on Life’s Race — Life is too Short to Keep Living in the Past

Ready… hands behind the line… Get set… heels and buttocks up… BANG!

And we’re off! Running as fast as our legs could carry us through the 100m track. All nervousness temporarily forgotten as my mind blanks out and my legs propel me forward.

Before I knew it, I could see a sliver of a white horizontal line. I felt myself slow a little as I throttled over it. I remember smiling to myself as I slowly looked to the stands.

That’s when I saw my coach and teammates furiously ushering me to move onwards down the track. I was confused, why were they — And as if in slow motion I saw the rest of the competition run straight past me! I staggardly snapped out of it as I began to run once again. But alas! I was then restarting from the 60m line, and I no longer had that speedy momentum I needed to win.

For years to come, I would always replay scenarios in my head of how I could have done that race differently. I would regret this event for a disproportionately long period of time. So many people have told me “There is no use crying over spilled milk”, but still I look disparagingly at that empty milk carton.

There was one particular event in my life though that gave me a sizable mind shift on how I viewed ‘spilled milk cartons’. That…