I went out for track when I was in high school. I wanted to be a miler. The first meet rolled around and I was no where near ready so the coach put me in a 440 yard relay. (that means I was supposed to run 440 yards and pass the baton to someone else).
I say "supposed to" because I started out running neck and neck with the lead runner all the way around the track. People were clapping and cheering and the world was wonderful. Then I got to the last 50 yards. I hit the wall as they say. It was like my body had turned to stone on the spot. Every step was a struggle and as I plodded along I watched the leader pull farther and farther away from me as the other runners passed by me like I wasn't even moving. (I barely was)
I managed to finally hand off the baton to the next girl, but we were too far back by then to make up the difference. It was a crushing defeat. Nobody wanted to talk to me the rest of the night and the next day I was cut from the team. (surprise!)
It was utterly humiliating but the one glimmer of sunshine in it all is that I didn't quit. I did manage to finish the race even though I was sure that I was going to die!