At the beginning of Grade Two, I joined the cross-country running team in our school.

When I came to the first practice, I was filled with optimism. But as the distance we ran in each practice gradually increased from three to four, to six miles, I realized with surprise that no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't able to run as fast as others. In fact, I was one of the slowest on the team.

What was the point of putting myself through so much pain? After the first few weeks, I wanted to quit.

Then we had our first cross-country meet.

When we started the race, I felt the great pressure of expectations sink onto my shoulders. And after a while I stopped running and struggled to walk up the hill. But then I heard my coaches shouting my name from the top of the hill. I felt confused and embarrassed; why were they cheering for me? I was running terribly! As I tried my best to finish the race, I realized that my coaches didn't care how fast I ran. Neither did my teammates. During the rest of the season, they were always on the sidelines of every race, cheering for me just as loudly as they'd cheered for the front runner.

From then on, I began to put my effort into supporting my teammates instead of focusing on my own performance. In that way, I celebrated my teammates' victories as if they were my own; I felt their pain and exhaustion as if they were my own.

Cross-country running made me realize I don't need to be the best to be successful in life. It taught me to value my relationships with people more than my relationship with my ego. It taught me to cheer for others even if I don't know their names.