Aryan Manoj Blogs

I knew this year could be one of my last opportunities to really prove to myself that I had what it took. Not just by running a good time, but by going after a performance I wasn’t even sure I was capable of producing. Going into this season, I had very big goals. Maybe even unrealistic ones. But I have always been that way.

The season didn’t start perfectly, and for a while I struggled to find my footing. But by the time I got to the BUCS Outdoor Championships in May, things started to click. The results didn’t quite go the way I wanted, but there was something about the way I was running that made me feel like something special could happen this year.

And then, in the relay, everything changed. I suffered a Grade 2 hamstring strain. I couldn’t walk properly, let alone sprint. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I had four weeks to get myself ready for the state championships. Four weeks to go from barely being able to walk to competing. That title mattered because winning it was what would qualify me for Nationals, which was the target competition of the year for me.

So I went to work. Four weeks later, somehow, I was standing on the start line and I won my third consecutive senior state 100m title. Looking back, that might have been one of the most draining things I have ever done, but it was also one of the most positive experiences of my season. It showed me something about myself that I think I needed to see. I had been knocked down pretty hard, and somehow, I found a way to stay positive, keep believing and come back to run faster than I ever had before.

For a moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. However, it didn’t stay that way. My hamstring continued to bother me and I even had to pull out of a race just two weeks before Nationals because I couldn’t run. Still, mentally, I felt incredible going into Nationals. Probably better than I ever had before a National Championships. I felt prepared, confident and I felt like I had done everything I could.

But my body let me down. I finished fourth in my semi-final and didn’t qualify for the final. After everything I had put myself through to get there, my season ended before I even got the chance to fight for the result I had spent a year chasing and it broke my heart.

For the first time in my life, I genuinely thought, “I don’t want to do this anymore” and that scared me. I have had bad races before. I have been injured before. I have lost races I thought I should have won. But this felt different. Usually, even after the worst days, there is something inside me that says, “we’ll get them next time”. This time, I couldn’t hear that voice. I felt very done, not frustrated or angry, just done. It takes an incredible amount of energy to wake up every day and convince yourself that you are capable of something extraordinary and give everything you have to it when there is no guarantee that it will work and that gets exhausting sometimes.

I took some time away from the track, thinking that maybe I just needed a little time to get over it. That maybe the motivation would come back on its own. Almost six weeks passed without me running on the track. Instead, I focused on rehabbing my hamstring because I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. But mentally, I was still struggling. I didn’t have the same energy or the same excitement. For the first time, I wasn’t sure if I had anymore in me.

I have now had almost two months to think about everything. About two weeks back, I stepped onto the track again and actually felt okay.

I’m going to give it another go. I’m going to believe in myself again. And I’m going to give this everything I have. But this time, I want to be more intentional about it. I want to appreciate the process more. I want every day to mean something, because despite everything that happened, I still want this.

I don’t know exactly where this chapter is going to take me. I don’t know what time I’ll run. I don’t know what I’ll achieve. And the goal I have in my head might be even more unrealistic now, but maybe that’s the point. I have always been willing to bet on myself, and I think I need to do it one more time.

I’m going to give this every single ounce of energy I have, and if, at the end of it all, it doesn’t work out… Then so be it. At least I’ll know I gave it everything I had. At least I’ll know that when I had every reason to stop believing, I chose to believe again. Because sometimes the result isn’t the most important part. Sometimes the real victory is having the courage to bet on yourself when you have no guarantee that the bet will pay off. So, here we go again.