Below the Cherry by Ayodeji

Below the Cherry by Ayodeji - December 2013 Scholarship Essay

“I struggled and I overcame,” is your typical essayist’s recollection of hurdles encountered in athletics. The glory, the jubilee, and the championship-winning shot all paint a monochromatic picture understandably titled Winning. While as an athlete I wanted first place just as much, if not more, than anyone else, over the years I’ve come to appreciate an equally if not more so poignant piece of artwork—Losing. My track career has been less than satisfactory by star standards, blemished by a long list of disappointments, hardships, and stories untold by the four digits and a decimal that denote race times. Even so, I suspect my mediocre record has been the best addition to my résumé thus far, as an athlete yes, but foremost as a person.

My freshman year can be summarized in one word: rubbish. You had the amazing, the good, the average, the bad, the trash, and then I came in somewhere underneath, in contention for top three worst on the team. My first race perhaps serves as an appropriate allegory for how quite bad I was; not only did I trip when the starting gun was shot but I also quite emphatically embarrassed myself by stopping some five meters prematurely because I did not know which of the marks on the ground constituted the finish line. Though I have since risen to the top in my event, the 400m, it was not without sustaining many crippling injuries, enduring many embarrassing losses, and experiencing many demeaning disappointments. I recount these memories to illustrate a point: I appreciate my journey to the top more than the top itself, and if I had never made it to the top it would’ve been of no matter because of what I have gained through the process.

It ignites a vigor like no other, a vigor that spews fortification and stress tolerance out of its nostrils, to run with pain so potent that it makes your legs tremble and reduces you to a limp after practice everyday. It ignites a rebound mentality so thoroughly laced with resiliency that you’re anticipating the next race before the current one has taken place to set goals that you know you’re capable of achieving yet consistently failing to do so for months. It ignites self-discipline so vivacious in ferocity to every morning wake up knowing there’s a wall I must push against to get through practice, and that wall is myself. Though it may be a romantic perception, I retrospectively see that track and field has presented to me a miniaturized world of struggle. I’ve felt what many have felt, and tasted what many have tasted, and while that has included the cherry at the top, I think many can appreciate the there’s more to a dish than a small fruit.