Second-Place Gold Medal

In keeping with my recent theme of life lessons I’ve learned from swimming, I want to share the story of one of the most peculiar victories I have ever earned.

During my fourth year in high school, after a year of taking a break from actively participating in the Intramural sports program, I decided (or was forced — I’m not quite sure) to compete yet again in the swimming events. It was my last year, one last shot at capturing that elusive gold medal, and I didn’t want to let the fear of another embarrassment ruin my chances.

I signed up for the 50 m Breaststroke, and I told them that I would not accept any reassignment. My small uprising the year prior resulted in a void for a capable swimmer — a risk they wanted to avoid this time around.

So, I went on to compete in a stroke that I was comfortable with. If I would lose, I would only have myself to blame. This time around, I was paired again with a varsity player — a different one, but a varsity player nonetheless. I was determined to secure a place in the podium — even a silver medal would be an improvement from my previous year’s non-participation.

The first heat commenced, and my teammate flew right off the bat. He glided on the water like a dolphin, but I remained unfazed. When his heat finished, he hurriedly jumped out of the pool, not even waiting for the signal to get up. It was an oversight on his part, and he was disqualified for it.

I had mixed feelings about it, but I had to stay focused. The whistle for my heat blared, and the next thing I knew, I was kicking myself off the stand. Everything was automatic; my whole body was working in unison. As soon as my hands touched the tiles in the finish line, my batch mates shouted at me to not get out of the pool, so I won't be disqualified as well.

I won.

Of the ones that remained in contention, I had the best time that far surpassed my opponents, but my time wasn’t the best time recorded for the day. I won because of a technicality.

While having lunch with the team, I told my teammate that I’m giving the gold medal to him, to which he declined and admitted his fault for his disqualification. He knew that he won, and he didn’t need some medal to reassure himself . I envied that thinking.

Much to my chagrin, I was forced to step on the podium during the awarding ceremony. I blocked my face with my cap as the gold medal (pictured above) was placed on my neck. I congratulated the silver and bronze medalists the moment we stepped off the podium, telling them that one of them would be the gold medalist next year. When I got home, I threw the medal in my cabinet and didn’t look at it for a long time. (I only took it out and displayed it in my room when I decided to do away with competitiveness.)

I loathed that victory, but the experience was undeniably a profound learning experience. Sometimes in life, we may not always deserve the accolades that are bestowed upon us, while sometimes we owe them to other people. However, it’s important that we take these small victories whenever and however they come. These small reprieves from the tedium of every day life reminds us of the promise of better things — denying ourselves of such would only cause us discontent in the future. My guilt stems from my shepherd-like mentality back then. I had a hard time trying to come to grips that it’s okay to triumph while others fall short — that it’s not my fault.