But this time, Rohan was ready. He had learned from his previous races, adjusted his strategy, and he was determined not to let Arjun pull ahead.
The first half of the race was a test of endurance, the runners pacing themselves carefully as they moved through the laps. Rohan stayed close to the leaders, his eyes focused on the track ahead. He could feel Arjun beside him, matching his every move, but Rohan refused to be intimidated. He had come too far, worked too hard, to let anything stand in his way.
As they approached the final lap, Rohan knew that the race was about to enter its most critical phase. The pace would quicken, the runners would start to push harder, and the pack would begin to thin out. This was the moment where races were won or lost, where the strongest would rise to the top.
Rohan began to increase his speed, his legs pumping with renewed energy as he moved up in the pack. He could feel Arjun doing the same, the two of them pushing each other forward, neither willing to give an inch. The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle playing out as they vied for position.
With 300 meters to go, the leaders made their move, surging ahead with a burst of speed that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Rohan knew that
this was it—the final push, the moment where he had to give everything he had. He dug deep, his muscles screaming with the effort as he accelerated, trying to keep pace with the frontrunners.
But once again, the top three positions seemed to slip through his fingers. As they crossed the finish line, Rohan found himself in fourth place, just a fraction of a second behind the third-place finisher. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he had come so close, but it still wasn't enough.
Rohan slowed to a stop, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he bent over, hands on his knees. The disappointment was overwhelming, a crushing weight that bore down on him with each breath. He had given everything he had, but it still hadn't been enough to secure a spot on the podium.
As he walked off the track, his legs feeling like lead, Rohan's mind raced with thoughts of what more he could have done. He had trained harder than ever, pushed himself to the brink, but the results remained the same. Fourth place, just shy of the top three. It was a pattern that was beginning to wear on him, a constant reminder of how far he still had to go.
Ms. Mehra met him at the edge of the track, her expression serious but not unkind. "You ran well, Rohan," she said, her voice steady. "But I can see the frustration in your eyes. You're close, but there's still something missing."
Rohan nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "I'm doing everything I can, but it's like I keep hitting a wall. I don't know what else to do."
Ms. Mehra placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm but reassuring. "You've made incredible progress, Rohan," she said. "You're competing against the best in the world, and you're holding your own. But you're right—there's a mental barrier you need to overcome. It's not just about physical strength or speed. It's about believing that you belong up there with the best."
Rohan looked at her, searching her eyes for the answer he so desperately needed. "How do I do that?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and determination.
Ms. Mehra gave him a small, encouraging smile. "You've already done it before," she said. "You broke through barriers to get to this level, and you can do it again. But you need to stop focusing on the outcome—on the medals, the rankings. Focus on the process, on running your best race every time. The rest will follow."
Her words resonated with Rohan, but the path forward still felt uncertain. He had always measured his success by where he finished, by whether he was standing on the podium at the end of the race. But maybe Ms. Mehra was right—maybe he needed to shift his focus, to stop thinking about what he hadn't achieved and start concentrating on what he was capable of.
As they left the stadium and headed back to the hotel, Rohan replayed the race in his mind, analyzing every step, every decision he had made. He knew that he was close, that he was on the threshold of breaking through to the next level. But there was still a mental barrier holding him back, a fear of failure that he couldn't seem to shake.
That night, as Rohan lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he made a decision. He would stop obsessing over the podium, over where he finished in each race. Instead, he would focus on running his best, on pushing himself to the limit and trusting that the results would come.
It wouldn't be easy—Rohan knew that. But he had faced tough challenges before, and he had always found a way through. He would do it again, not just for himself, but for everyone who had believed in him, who had supported him on this journey.
The international circuit was far from over, and there were still more races to run, more opportunities to prove himself. Rohan wasn't done yet. He was just getting started.
With that thought in mind, Rohan closed his eyes, feeling a renewed sense of determination settle over him. The road ahead was still long, but he was ready to face it head-on, to push through the barriers that stood in his way.
Because greatness wasn't just about winning medals—it was about the journey, the struggle, and the relentless pursuit of being the best version of himself.
And Rohan Singh was ready to embrace that journey, no matter where it led.