Elongating himself in a standard hurdler’s stretch, the young decathlete sneered, “Take a good look and see what a winner looks like, grandpa; not as if you’d know otherwise.”
His body bowed by both time and tribulation, the old man still had the grace to reach into his pocket and extract the medal, its ribbon worn and faded though its gold still shone brightly.
“In the arrogance of youth you presume too much, young man. Anika warned me if I left her for a year to pursue my dream, she’d not be there when I returned. So, please do not assume I am not well aware of both the consequences of failure nor of the price of victory.”