I Am Going to Win

I Am Going to Win

Turning Doubt into Determination, and Dreams into Destiny

There was a time when Sarah couldn’t look in the mirror without feeling like a failure. She was 28 years old, unemployed, and back living with her parents in a small rural town. The world had told her to follow her passion, but when she did, it seemed the world forgot to follow back.

Sarah had always dreamed of becoming a professional athlete — not just any athlete, but a marathon runner. She had placed in top spots in her college races and even trained with a semi-professional team. But an unexpected knee injury during a half marathon sent her dreams crumbling. Surgery followed. Then, months of physiotherapy. By the time she could walk normally again, two years had passed. Sponsors were gone. Momentum was lost. Confidence shattered.

“I am not a winner,” she whispered one morning while tying her shoes for yet another aimless walk around the neighborhood.

But something inside her refused to die. That stubborn flame — the one that had fueled her 5 a.m. runs, that had made her shave seconds off her time with each race — still flickered in the dark. And one evening, while scrolling mindlessly through her phone, she stumbled upon a video interview with a double-amputee who had just completed an Ironman triathlon.

His words pierced her soul: “Your limits are not where your body ends, but where your mind quits.”

Sarah sat up straight.

“Why not me?” she said aloud. “Why not again? Why not now?”

That night, she wrote three words on a sticky note and pasted it on her mirror: I Am Going to Win.

Not “I might win.” Not “I hope.” I am going to win.

The next morning, her alarm rang at 5:00 a.m., just like in the old days. Her knee ached as she stood up, and her muscles screamed from the months of inactivity. But she laced up her running shoes anyway.

The first week, she could barely run a mile without stopping. But she didn’t care. She was moving forward. Day after day, she pushed through. Rain or shine. Pain or exhaustion.

People laughed — not out loud, but she could feel it. The quiet pity, the sideways glances from neighbors. Even her parents tried to talk her out of it. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Sarah,” her mother said gently.

But Sarah wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else.

She was trying to prove it to herself.

Six months in, she signed up for her first 10K since the injury. It wasn’t glamorous — just a small-town event with a couple hundred runners. She didn’t win. In fact, she finished 53rd. But when she crossed that finish line, tears streaming down her face, she whispered, “This is just the beginning.”

From there, things accelerated. Her diet changed. Her workouts intensified. She joined an online running community and found support from athletes around the world. One of them, a coach named Angela from Chicago, took special interest in her journey and began mentoring her remotely, helping her rebuild a serious training regimen.

A year later, Sarah completed her first full marathon since her injury. Her time wasn’t her personal best — not yet — but it qualified her for a regional competition.

Still, the real test came two years after she first looked in that mirror and declared her return. It was the Coastal National Marathon, one of the most competitive races on the East Coast. Sarah had to fight just to qualify. And even on race day, her body warned her she wasn’t quite “there.”

But her mind?

Her mind was at the starting line with fire in its eyes.

The gunshot rang out. Thousands of feet pounded the pavement. Sarah ran with laser focus, managing her pace, blocking out the fatigue, listening to every breath, every heartbeat. At mile 16, her knee began to tremble. At mile 20, she nearly threw up. But at mile 23, something happened. A runner beside her collapsed. Without hesitation, Sarah stopped, helped him up, and stayed with him until medics arrived.

She could’ve lost minutes. But somehow, the moment strengthened her. She began sprinting like she never had before.

When she crossed the finish line, she was in the top ten.

Not first place. Not the podium. But in the top ten — in one of the most elite races of her life.

And more importantly, she had run with heart, purpose, and grit.

That night, as she sat alone in her hotel room, medal in hand, she stared into the mirror once more. The same mirror where she once saw a failure now reflected something new.

A fighter.

A believer.

A winner.

And she smiled.

Because she knew now: Winning isn’t about being first. Winning is about refusing to quit.

Postscript:

Today, Sarah is a motivational speaker and coach for young athletes recovering from injuries or mental health setbacks. She founded an organization called Second Stride, which provides support and mentorship to those who feel like their dreams have slipped away.

At every seminar, workshop, and school talk she gives, she ends with the same phrase:

“Look in the mirror. Say it out loud. I am going to win. And then go make it true.”