text: - Mr. Peterson, may I ask you a question? I was in a huge crowd of people who seemed to want to eat me alive. I couldn't see anything and I was trying to find a quiet place. Somewhere where no one can bother me with questions I don't want to answer. Yesterday I went to my mom's funeral. When I saw her last time, she was so excited about me going to this championship. She smiled and laughed, and I saw life in her eyes. I've been training really hard these past few years. I gave it my all in this championship to show off my skills and prove I'm the best. But then my mom died. I imagined her watching TV and making her usual funny movements with her hands, clapping. And I, who just won first place, am so proud of being a part of my mother's family, being her son. She raised me to be strong and supported me in every way she could. I know she invested a lot of time and money into helping me pursue my sports career. I would do anything to show her how much I love and appreciate her. My heart broke when my brother called to tell me she had passed away. I was in a different city, a different country, preparing for the final step in my journey to becoming a professional athlete. Everybody already knows me as I walk down the street. They were asking for a picture with me and asking some questions. I wasn't that type of person who easily shared the details of my personal life, especially when I had so many problems. My wife, Alie, she's from Spain, she's young and ambitious, wants to be an actress. We agreed that I'd give her some time to get ready for this audition for a short movie her manager found for her this summer. But then I should've been going to the trainings, and they were never-ending. I didn't have time to drink or sleep properly. I didn’t come back home for two months. She was angry with me. I got her, and she had a dream just like me. I knew I had to support her too. But it wasn't the right time. I should've focused on my career; there was no other choice. I told her about it and asked her to wait. But she got furious and left me. And now, here I stand. - Mr... - No, I don't want to talk to any of you, just leave me alone! - I yelled, covering my head with my arms. My head was ringing like a cell phone. They kept talking and talking, asking me questions. How do I make them stop? I found a door and pushed it open. It was a strangely small storage room, but I stepped inside and shut the door. It was so dark, like the darkness in my heart. The darkness consumed me and my mind. I was dreaming about sleeping without thinking about what was going on in my life. It was an absolute nightmare. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked at it. It was my brother. - Hey, how are you, Guy? - I have no idea. I just want to escape this place. - Yes, all TV channels are talking about your failure. Your pretty face covers almost the whole screen. It is your star hour. Alie called me, by the way. - What did she say? - Hmm, she said something like he deserved it because he is a nobody, and she is going to marry someone who supports her, not this ugly face on the TV screen. - Thank you, little brother. That was a useless piece of information. I don't care about it anymore. - Guy, - He lowered his voice and stopped pretending to smile. - I know it's a lot, but you'll get through it. You made your choice, and I don't know why, but it's done now. I don't understand only one thing. You've been working towards this your whole life, and you just gave up when you were so close to the finish line? You were the best on the track the whole time, and then you just... stopped. Why? - You will understand it later, maybe. Sorry, I have to go. Bye. I closed my eyes and found myself back at the racetrack. Victory was within my grasp. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not because I don't deserve it, but because my friend was racing for second place. I knew him for over 10 years. We met in school. He fell on the track a few months ago while we were training. He was out for a few minutes. I tried to help him and called for emergency. They rushed him to the hospital to figure out what was wrong. I stayed by his bedside for three days, waiting for the results with him. My wife wasn't too happy when I did it, but I told her that he's my real friend and he needs my help. She didn't say anything, and we didn't talk for a few weeks. She didn't apologize, and I didn't expect her to. My friend was diagnosed with cancer. And I stopped. It was his last race, the last race in his life. Because he will cease to function in a few months at most. But he is a fighter. Even though he knew about his diagnosis, he didn't stop training despite his doctor's advice. I was looking at him, trying to compare myself to him. On the very last day, right before the championship, I sat on a wooden bench in the park and gazed at the sky, the clouds were really dark and heavy, and it looked like it's about to pour any minute. And I just realized that over a few months, I lost everything that I had. I was devastated, broken, and done. I was so mad at everyone. I was pissed at my mom for passing out before my tournament. I really wanted her to be there to see me and listen to my speech, but she let me down. I blamed my wife for not being patient with me and putting her life on the first place. I also blamed myself for being hard on everyone. I blamed people for not giving me enough support. I blamed my brother for being such a jerk. And then Garry, who was diagnosed with cancer and didn't blame anyone or anything for it. As we were nearing the finish line, I glanced at him. We were close, but he wouldn't make it before me. I was faster, stronger, and it was my moment. But I decided to give up my first place. And I didn't want to explain myself. All these journalists are waiting for me behind the door, so I'll probably stay here a bit longer.