Underestimation can be such a wonderfully astonishing motivational tool. When you know that you have the ability, and the minds around you take for granted that you are incapable of even coming close, the anger boiling in your arteries provide a boost that can rarely be matched.
I recently saw a marathon on television. There were many guys, fully toned, looking really fit, sexy shades on to keep their eyes cool while they run like machines with perfect posture that would make an ad director drool. And then there was this small African runner. He looked like he had no fat in his body. He had a surprised anxious look on his face – it was almost like someone had told him, “You keep running, or else, you die”. The running posture of this little man was, to say the least, funny! Hands going sideways, his palms looking like he was trying to fend off the death that was chasing him. I naturally expected this guy to come in at least half a minute after the winner. As the race went on, our little man slowly overtook about 6 guys one by one. Now in the second place, he chased the leader for a while and overtook him. The top 4 runners approached the last turn that led to the final 200-odd meters straight. Near the turn, the stylist guy, currently in 2nd place, in a seemingly heroic move, made an overtake. It was perfect movie-climax moment. His face perspiring, twisting under the effort he was putting to get ahead.
The little African, to my(and the commentator’s) shock, was slowing down drastically, and looking at his watch!! I was like, “What the Fuck! You lead the race for so long, and you are tiring out in the last stretch?!”, Then I felt that maybe he was too immature to put in all his energy for the previous stages, not saving up any for the finish. Maybe he’d run for the time he’d been asked to, by his imaginary mafia oppressors. The stylish guy was busy doing his thing for the cameras, putting all he had left to win by a big margin. And then my jaw dropped. With about 100 meters left, the little man zipped past our Hollywood hunk like he’d farted nitro. The little guy won by about 4 seconds. The race done with, the African played spoilsport for the cameras. No enthu, no celebration, so smile. He was probably thinking, “Ok now, please release my family. These guys won’t let me run anymore”
There are many such incidents that I’ve come across, that are just outrageously awesome. Many have quite a few assumptions about me, and I’ve realized, that there is no use in trying to justify that their thoughts about my ability are not true. It’s quite simply, a lot more satisfying to just prove them wrong. They say my sense of time is quite bad. I hate being written off. This time, instead of arguing back, I replied in action. And yes, trust me, it’s more satisfying than trying to reason out with facts that I’m rarely late for any occasion.
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