The Night Before the Race
It was Saturday night — the eve of my big race. I had trained with intention all week, determined to beat my previous time. My race number was ready, my running gear laid out, and all that was left was a peaceful night’s sleep.
But as soon as my head touched the pillow, I remembered something unsettling: I couldn’t find my bank card — the same one I had used earlier that evening. I searched everywhere, retracing my steps, but eventually surrendered to the idea that I would deal with it after the race.
Still, sleep refused to come. I tossed and turned, unsure whether it was the missing card or the quiet weight of other unspoken worries pressing on my mind. Doubt whispered: Would I even be able to run tomorrow?
For a moment, frustration washed over me, tempting me to give up before the race even began.
Holding Space
What saved me from spiraling was a practice I had recently embraced — holding space for myself in moments of emotional intensity.
Suppressing feelings only buries them deeper, yet being consumed by them can distort our clarity. Strong emotions narrow our perspective; they sound alarms but cannot offer direction.
Holding space creates a pause — a breath, a softening, a moment where clarity can return. It allows the wiser part of me to rise — the part that remembers I have survived difficult seasons before, and that solutions always find their way to me.
In that space, panic loses its power.
It is like dark clouds covering the sun. The clouds may hide it temporarily, but the sun never stops shining.
I reminded myself of this truth. I didn’t need a perfect plan — only the next step.
So I chose rest. Even if sleep was imperfect, I made a quiet promise: Tomorrow, I will still run my race.
Running at My Own Pace
To my surprise, I woke up on time the next morning. Not only that — I arrived 30 minutes early, proud that I had shown up despite the mental storm of the night before.
When the race began, the crowd surged forward with electric energy. It was overwhelming at first.
I gently reminded myself not to compare. No one else knew the hurdles I had overcome just to stand at the starting line.
I allowed myself to walk when I needed to. I focused on deep, steady breaths instead of panting through my mouth. I honoured my own rhythm.
And I finished.
I ran 10 km in one hour and twenty minutes — not a personal best, but a deeply personal victory. Considering the restless night I had endured, it was something to celebrate.
Running My Own Race
Running my own race has never come naturally.
For years, I lived in a hurry — a hurry to finish primary school, then high school, then college, then to start working. I believed fulfillment lived in the next milestone.
But each stage had its own beauty — beauty I often missed because I was rushing toward the future.
Now, I choose to be intentional. I choose to savour the journey. Holding space helps me check whether I am aligned — whether I am in my highest high or navigating a low.
Failure used to terrify me because I believed I had to get everything right the first time. But failure is a teacher. It refines us. It sharpens our strategy. It guides us toward sustainable growth.
Nothing in life is ever wasted.
The Unexpected Twist
After the race, I went home to rest before returning to the shop to look for my card. It wasn’t there.
I realised I would need to visit the bank for a replacement.
The next morning, I considered postponing a scheduled catch‑up with friends. But something nudged me to go anyway.
The catch‑up was beautiful — so nourishing that I completely lost track of time and missed the bank’s closing hour.
The following morning, on my way to the bank, I dropped my house keys under the car seat. As I reached down to retrieve them, something unbelievable happened…
I found my bank card. Right there under the seat — the same card that had caused all the chaos.
The Lesson in the Race
This emotional rollercoaster taught me something profound:
No matter what happens, my light is always shining. Dark clouds may obscure it, emotions may overwhelm it, circumstances may challenge it — but the light never disappears.
As long as I keep returning to myself, as long as I keep showing up, as long as I keep running my own race…
My light will always find a way through.
✨ About the Author
Esther Bobo is a wellness storyteller and advocate devoted to helping women heal, grow, and live authentically. Through reflective writing and lived experience, she explores themes of self‑awareness, emotional healing, and spiritual transformation — inviting readers to reconnect with their inner light and live from a place of truth.
