The gunshot marks the start. The athletes lift their feet making their way towards the finish line. You don’t dare look anywhere else. Your gaze firmly fixed on that point, that destination.
They all start out as equals. No one has any advantage over the other. They’ve all got the same distance to cover. They’ve all trained to make it to that point but some have trained far harder, they’ve had to.
A few metres down the track the first one falls. As he tumbles all he can see are his competitors slipping into the distance towards the finish line. In that second he has to make a decision, accept defeat or continue despite this obstacle. He chose the latter.
As he gradually picked up pace another competitor loses sight of the finish line. Her focus dropped and her pace dwindled. She fought and fought to catch up but her body wouldn’t allow it.
By now the ones who’d had the ideal race had crossed the line. That line that deemed them more successful. No hurdles, no loss of concentration, no falls just start to finish.
Had the race been a relay they all would’ve had to shoulder the consequence of the fall but it wasn’t. It was a sprint to the finish line.