It is hard not to desire victory in all your efforts when the world seems so competitive and especially if you’re a boy growing up with those values. A boy grew up in a similar environment where winning was all that was valued and he longed to succeed. The boy was good at running, so he called everyone in the nearby villages for a race. A large group of people came to see this exciting event!

The boy had been training hard for this race. He ran among the strongest boys from around the villages and it looked like heat on a finish line, but the young boy came out victorious! The crowd went wild with delight as they cheerfully waved banners(横幅) praising him. The boy loved the attention. It made him feel happy.

There were several types of races, sprint, long distances, relays etc. The boy was unbeatable in all the races he competed in. The crowd loved him even more after each victory; they clapped with excitement. The boy felt very proud of his accomplishments.

But among the crowd was a wise older man who did not seem as impressed with the boy’s victory as the rest. Just as the boy thought all the races for the day were over. The old man shouted from the crowd, “there is one more race left—the most important one.” The boy was surprised by the additional race, but he was confident he could win any race.

The old man brought two new competitors for the boy, a blind man and a weak old lady. “What type of race is this? I can easily win them.” the boy exclaimed. “The most important one,” said the old man. So, the boy ran the race as he knew he would win this time too. When the boy crossed the finish line, the blind man was still at the start and the old lady had just started to move. The boy raised his hands after his victory, waiting for the familiar cheering.

To his disbelief, the crowd was silent.

The boy raced again.

My mum and grandma drove me to a 5km race. There was a fierce thunderstorm, and when we got there, I had to wait for it to pass beneath an overhang (屋檐) with the other runners. I started to feel a little nervous, because some of the people there looked really fast. They had proper running shoes and long skinny legs. They were all different ages. I wasn’t wearing running clothes; just a normal T-shirt and shorts.

An hour after the official start time even though it was still raining, the race organisers said we could go. That morning, I was running confidently and feeling strong. The route went through a neighbourhood and there were quite a few people cheering us on, but I didn’t see any faces I knew. It started to pour again, but I love running in the rain: It keeps me cool and I can keep going for longer, even when I get tired, when I run, I don’t wear a watch to see what distance I’m at；I just focus on moving, breathing and how my body feels.

At one point, I came to a split (分叉) in the course. A woman who was directing us blocked off (封锁) the route which I was meant to take and told me to go the other way, so I followed her directions.

I was confused, but just kept running. I knew I must be close to finishing the 5km, but I couldn’t see the finishing line. After a while I saw route directions for a 10km race. I was worried and thought I was lost, but had to keep going. My body started to get tired and my muscles a little sore. I said to myself, “You’re almost there. Just keep breathing.” Eventually I saw the finishing line and spotted my mum. She looked angry. I got past the line and she was yelling, “Why did you do this, Kade? You are in so much trouble.”

I learned why my mum was angry later.

My mum went up to the lady who was timing the race.

When I was four, my seven-year-old brother received a baseball mitt (手套) for his birthday. Every night, as we went to sleep, I’d listen to him throwing a ball into the mitt over and over to soften the leather. I wanted a mitt so much that I almost cried. But, back then, girls didn’t play sports.

Twenty-six years had passed. Now a thirty-year-old mother of three, I happened to see a notice in my local paper: “Women’s Slow-Pitch Softball League opens soon. Anyone who is interested can sign up at the recreation center.” I cut it out and set it on the kitchen counter. Could I? Was it even possible to think about playing baseball, a game I’d never actually played but had dreamed of playing my entire life? But I’d certainly watched enough games to know how it was played.

I looked at that notice on my counter every day. I thought of a thousand reasons I couldn’t play. I was too old. I had three little ones to watch. I could never be good enough. But the idea of playing baseball stuck in my head and wouldn’t go away. Finally, I gathered up my courage and signed up at the recreation center.

Since I wasn’t on a team, they told me I’d be assigned to one. And I was made to practice running bases. I never got a chance to bat or play on the field. I just ran the bases all night. Every week, I showed up for practice. But every game, I spent the night sitting on the bench. My husband asked why I didn’t just forget about it, and I told him that if I gave up, I’d never get a chance.

During the last game of the season, I finally had a chance to go to center field. I had to borrow a mitt and I used it to catch an impossibly high ball, winning the game for us. The coach looked surprised. It never occurred to him that I might be able to play.

After the game, a young man approached me and asked if I’d like to play for his team.

But it turned out that the coach was right: I could pitch (投).