Wednesday, March 25, 2015 // The Statement
6B
Personal Statement: Why I run
by Mayank Mathur, Daily Arts Writer
E
arly on this semester, my friends
and I were hit by the sudden urge to
work out and get in shape. It wasn’t
surprising, given that Spring Break was
just around the corner. It was interesting
and sometimes funny to see the varying
degrees of enthusiasm with which differ-
ent people hit the gym. Some seemed to be
genuinely motivated and others just went
because, well, everyone else was going. I
was somewhere in between; it had always
been my plan to start on a healthier lifestyle
this semester, and seeing my closest friends
go regularly sometimes pushed me when I
would have normally stayed in bed watch-
ing Netflix.
Most of us didn’t really know what to do
at the gym once we got there, so we’d kind
of do our own thing and keep an eye on each
other at the same time. The fitter and more
experienced among the herd would pass on
their wisdom and guide us in our efforts,
but even so, few of us really knew what was
going on. Still, it was better than sitting at
home and ordering in No Thai, and, besides,
healthy competitiveness between friends is
never a bad thing.
We kept an eye on each other, more than
we’d care to admit. It was hard not to when
you work out with four other people. I usu-
ally did my work on the running track and
never stepped with my friends into the
weights room. Some of them teased me for
“running around like a dog” on the tracks
instead of doing something less mundane
than running in circles. It was funny, and
sort of true — running in circles can get a lit-
tle boring. But, I always did it; I can’t recall a
time when I went to the gym and didn’t step
onto the track.
I’ve always wanted to be a good run-
ner, ever since I saw the training sequence
from the first “Rocky” movie. Seeing Rocky
sprint on the docks against the backdrop of
a massive ship as “Gonna Fly Now” built up
still gives me goosebumps. This is why, in
high school, the annual 2.4-mile race was so
important to me. As a perennial overweight
underachiever in school, winning the race
in front of a massive crowd was literally the
stuff of my dreams.
One day senior year, I declared my ambi-
tion to win the race. Amused, my friends
decided to set $100 at stake and give me
eight months to undergo whatever prepara-
tion I needed to finish in the top three. The
conviction with which they told me that I
was going to fail hurt me and purely out of
spite, I backed myself to prove them wrong.
On the day of the race, I was more fit than
before but in no condition to compete for a
spot on the podium. At some stage, the pas-
sion to run had been replaced by the obliga-
tion to, and I had lost motivation. I realized
that ambition cannot be fueled solely by the
desire to prove others wrong.
Since I was expecting my friends to mock
me as I sat on the sidelines, the ordeal was
brief and painless. However, once they
knew I wasn’t participating, the effect of
peer pressure waned. I realized that this
shouldn’t have been about their doubts of
my ability. This was about my insecurities
and now, I had the chance to run that race
and conquer them.
Ecstatic, I told my friends I was going to
run. One of them looked me in the eye and
said, “Don’t be stupid, sit down.” Doubt,
insecurity, and fear took over once again
and I was brought down to size. The whistle
blew, and I was left wondering instead of
realizing a dream.
It was then I realized that regret isn’t the
sadness of making a wrong decision. It’s the
agony of realizing how easy it was to make
the right one. I felt it as I watched each
contestant run past me. I could’ve easily
stepped onto the track to run the race, but
I did what people expected of me. I didn’t
even try; I just stood there watching as oth-
ers lived my dream.
I wouldn’t have even come close to win-
ning, but that really wasn’t the point any-
more. It was about winning self-respect
so I could look at myself and be proud of
something I did. The underachiever in me
needed a heroic act and that was my chance
to prove to myself that I was more than
what I thought. Three years on, I’m no lon-
ger obese. I look and feel different. How-
ever, that twinge of regret still remains.
Although it inspires me to live freely, I know
that I would much rather have the memory
of completing the race motivate me rather
than the regret of being a coward.
ILLUSTRATION BY MEGAN MULHOLLAND