Which Wolf Would You Feed?

Confession guys, back in the day, I hated competitions. I hated them because I am, by nature, extremely competitive and I hated to lose.

In fact, there was a time when I would run pell mell in the opposite direction at just the thought of competing.

Why then, you may wonder, do I enter competitions today?

Well, it's because I have learned over the years that sometimes it's actually good to lose, you can't win everything all the time, and you can't expect others to be happy for you when you're the one at the top of the victor's podium.

Let me tell you guys a story.

When I was about 13 years old, my school participated in a sports meet, and I was selected to join the team of representative athletes. At the time, I was super proud to be selected, but unfortunately, I missed the point of that selection. I went out to compete thinking that I was representing myself and not appreciating the fact that I was in fact representing an institution of proud and determined souls who had said, we pick you.

My school had a very strong value system, and they were all about raising good and wholesome citizens, so when we were selected to compete, it was a huge honor, but winning wasn't supposed to be our first goal. The bragging rights that came with a victory was cool, of course, but the principles of sportsmanship were far more important.

The Principles of Sportsmanship

• We trained together as a team and we were supposed to conduct ourselves responsibly and look out for each other, no matter what.

• We were supposed to respect each other and everyone else in the sports meet, and we were supposed to wish everyone well and celebrate everyone's success- whichever school they represented.

• We were expected go out and give our best showing, to walk on and off the field with pride, however we placed, because- even if we lost, we would have represented our school with integrity.

Guys, I didn't get that memo.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but teachable moment, right?

Anyways, so we got to the arena and school representatives were selected to step forward and hold the school flag for the anthem. It was an honor to be selected, and I was given that honor, but do you think I was proud?

Do you even think that I thought it was an honor?

No! I was furious!

I was livid!

I thought, I am an athlete, not a flag bearer!

And it didn't help that I was a bit petite and the winds were gusty that day so that as they beat against the flags, I had to struggle to stay on the ground. Other children might have given an arm and a leg to stand where I stood, and I was ashamed. The back of my neck burnt.

After the march past came the races and, of course, I didn't care about anyone else running, because this was supposed to be my moment to shine, right? I think I was so full of it that if you poked me with a needle, I would have popped, so skewed were my priorities. And so, as is always the case with lofty pride, my friends, it's always followed by a fall. And I came tumbling down, fast!

I ran a 400 meter dash, and though I didn't even have the stamina to make 100 meters optimally, I felt that winning this race was a shoe in.

And so we knelt- On Your Marks!

Get set! Eyes focused forward, heart racing fast.

Pop! The gun went off and off we went down the dirt path, feet thumping, clods of dirt flying in our wake.

I held my own for about 40 meters and then fell into second place, then third.

By 200 meters, I was second to last and the only other athlete behind me was coming up on me fast. And so what do you think I did guys.

If ever I could go back in history to a point where I could start my life all over, strangely enough, it would be this moment, because it was a character defining moment for me, and I failed.

When I realized that I was about to be overtaken, I fainted. Well, I didn't actually faint. I pretended to.

And if you're shaking your head and tsking at me, I know. It was a terrible thing to do. It was selfish, it was narcissistic, and it was absolutely undeserving of my team mates and school. Believe me, I get it. But in that moment, wrapped up in the cocoon of myself and my feelings, I couldn't see beyond the pimple on my nose, and so I on lay inert on the grass as the cheering audience went "oooooooh" and I stole all the attention from the deserving winner, as everyone was now focused on me, the fake, lying motionless in the grass.

"Is she dead?" One student cried.

Attendants rushed to me with smelling salts and stretchers.

Guys, I swear, it took everything in me not to splutter and cough as the adults sought to revive me, and soon they were running off again, this time with me on a stretcher and carrying me back to my tent where I would lap up the fawning concern of my peers.

I know the term, I've beat myself up with it many times over the years, morally bankrupt.

Later that evening, I decided that I had carried the joke for long enough and I stood, stretched my arms wide and said to everyone in my tent, I'm actually quite fine, I can walk. Some children were quite amused by my charade, the adults were not. My coach, in fact, was furious. Her lips, her fingers, her entire body trembled as she pointed at me and said, "Get out of my sight!"

It was the last time I would represent my school.

The next morning I was lectured and asked to apologize to my team, which I did, but even then, I didn't get it. I didn't understand that I had actually messed up a huge honor because I was only thinking of myself, and not my team, not my school, not the organizers of the competition or the other athletes who would have worked hard to have their moment. And because I didn't understand, it took several life lessons- harsh ones- for me to get it.

At first I blamed the competition. I'm not going to compete, I said. I'm a sore loser, and competitions bring out a bad side in me that I don't like. It was easier to put blame on someone or something else rather than to do some introspection.

Years later, I realized that competitions didn't bring out a bad side in me, I brought that side out. I had tapped into an ugly, selfish, self absorbed side, and I let that side reign.

There's a famous story that I've heard tell where an old man told a young boy that we each have two wolves at war inside of us, and when the boy asked who wins, the man replied wisely, the one you feed.

I fed selfishness and narcissism and pride and envy, not a competition. And so, guys, when I came to that moment of realization, I learned to start to foster a spirit of gratitude for simple things, and I use my life lessons as manure almost, to encourage others to grow and to learn faster than I did.

Today, as a writer, I compete every chance I get, and I try to motivate others to compete too. If I win a competition, great, yay! But if I don't win, great, yay! Doesn't matter. Because I get the chance to congratulate the victors and celebrate with them, and send them positive energy, and that's what matters.

Listen, this world, this little marble that we live on, is so tiny though it's everything to us. There's finite space that we must all share for a limited period of time. And in this time and space, there is no place for selfishness and hate, there really isn't. And so, it's always best, before you project out, to look inward and ask yourself every day, am I the best that I can be today? How am I making this small space we share better for everyone?

And so, guys, that's my story. I lost the race and, unfortunately, many other life opportunities. I had to toddle around and fall several times before I could stand. I'd rather I didn't, truth be told. I'd rather I had learned a lot of things sooner. But I'm glad that it's still not too late and that I am still here, learning, so that I can share these experiences, and maybe someone can learn a bit earlier than I did.

Have a great day, guys!

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