For the most years of my life, I have borne the brunt of being complemented as ‘brave’. Yes, you read it right, I called being brave as a burdensome, annoying feeling that has tagged along me everywhere I went. I first met it when I was eight and was put into roller skating. With due respect to my family’s concern for my fitness, I needed to be brave to put up with early morning risings, toughened coaches and requirement to win at every tournament. So, I ran at the whistle. I ran to have a good start at championships. I ran to leave behind my competitors. I ran to justify the cheering crowd. I ran – for the gold.