The world-renowned psychologist Nathaniel Branden defines self-esteem as "the reputation we acquire with ourselves." And at the wisened old age of thirteen, I confidently reputed myself as one who always gets A's, who doesn't get in trouble, who fearlessly answers Sunday school's toughest questions, and who is both musically and academically gifted. By the time I decided to join the track team, my consistent rain of accomplishments had not only become enjoyable, but it had become reassuring; it gave me comfort, and it was part of my identity. It had never crossed my mind that they would not always be there, but middle school track was about to show me just that.
I hadn't expected the first meet to come as quickly as it did, but before I knew it, the leisurely atmosphere of track practice had transformed into the chill tension of my first meet, which made me shiver with fear, even in a Texas April. As my competitors lined up alongside me I carefully placed my feet in the running blocks and knelt down on the warm track in preparation for the starting gunshot. My eyes climbed up the stretch of track like a soldier's along the battlefield. The thud of my heart confirmed what I had only recently begun to realize myself - that I was not ready to challenge the expanse of land before me, that I no longer wanted anything to do with the people surrounding me on all sides, and that if there was anywhere I could run, it was away from this meet, this track, this race.
I came in dead last. It, at first, seemed to be only a minor setback in my plans to win everything, learn everything, do everything, and essentially become a quasi-perfect person. Past experiences had taught me that I could always come out on top the next time.
But after finishing in this same placement in nearly every race thereafter, I was faced with the fear of worthlessness that comes when one places his/her worth on the wrong things.