// Kenneth W. Hagin
I'VE BEEN INTERESTED in track and field since my school days. From the time I was in grade school, I can remember running races with every kid in town. As a youngster, I dreamed of running in track meets.
In my junior year in high school I went to a Christian boarding school. Soon after enrolling, I discovered that the school didn't have a track team. It seemed like my dream was gone.
But I talked it over with some of the other boys, and we gathered together a few guys who were interested in running track. We tried to get the basketball coach to be our coach. He didn't know anything about track so he said no. Our history teacher liked sports, so he coached us.
I'll never forget that pitiful assemblage of 13 boys and one history teacher. We looked like a circus. No one had on the same kind of running shorts. Our jerseys were blue and gold. Some boys had red shorts on. We didn't look too good.
Can you imagine this ragtag bunch of kids out on the field with all the other teams in their classy uniforms!
One time at a meet, we started practicing our relay hand-offs for the 880 relay. Everybody else had nice, hollow batons. We were passing back and forth a broomstick I had cut up. That's all we had.
The thirteen of us had a dream. We dreamed of running, and we wanted a team. At first our dream was just running races. It wasn't long before we started winning!
That's when our dream got bigger. We dreamed of running in the state track meet.
Everybody knows that a team without an experienced coach or the right equipment should not make it to the state track meet. That just shouldn't happen. But seven out of our 13-man track team went to state. The newspaper called us "The Cinderella Seven."
Our dream was fulfilled on May 18, 1957. The starting gun cracked at 9 o'clock sharp. One minute and 37 seconds later, the 880 relay was over. I will never forget it as long as long as I live.
I was 20 yards from the fellow I was to hand the baton off to, and I started seeing white spots in front of my eyes. My lungs were burning from lack of oxygen, and my legs felt like rubber.
BUT SOMEWHERE DOWN ON THE INSIDE OF ME WAS A DREAM: A DREAM OF WINNING. When the white spots began to appear, an incident from the past flashed through my mind. I went back to the only day my dad was able to see me compete in a track meet.
I imagined I was coming off that curve, churning with everything I had, when down by the finish line I saw my dad reach out. I heard him holler, "Come on, boy! Come on, boy!"
With his words ringing in my ears, I reached back, got strength from somewhere deep within, and finished. Our team won the meet that day!
I want to encourage everyone whose dream seems to have been obliterated by circumstances: The finish line is just a little further ahead!
DARE TO BELIEVE YOUR DREAM. When it seems like the devil has shattered it, reach down, pick up the pieces, put the dream back together, and continue driving for success. NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO QUIT. KEEP STANDING AND DREAMING YOUR DREAMS.
I can see Jesus Christ leaning out across the finish line hollering, "Come on, man! Come on, woman! Just a few more steps and you've got it made! Don't lose your dream now! Run to victory!"
It's time to take your impossible dream and with God turn it into something possible. The time for your victory is now!