I was recovering from major surgery. My career was over at 19. My brother was an Olympic finalist. I was much younger. 9 years younger. I'd blown my knee out in a motorcycle accident, and the surgical options back then were not available. Cruciates and Cartilages and it was all over.
After struggling for a year or two, I had to give up jumps because my knee kept separating on take off. I changed events and worked my way to sprints with a plan to try the long sprint.
I moved out of state to the club team my Brother was in when he made the national team. My Bro was no longer running. Half way through the season my team entered me in my first 400. I had no idea what to do. I did a standing start and sauntered towards the 300 m mark. I knew I could run 300 pretty well but had no idea about 400. I was down the list into the back straight, but it wasn't going to be a fast heat. Nothing better than 48 flat.
As I came to the 200 I was about 10 down, and passing the team tent. They had a life member who was close to 90 years old. He was our team founder. He stood on the side lines cheering our team on in every event. As I came past he shouted "Go Young (My name)". Of course I got all emotional and kicked it into gear. I came into the home straight in touch and went on to win the race. 2 weeks later I was put in the higher division, and I qualified for Nationals.
Its near 45 years since, and I can still see this wrinkly old guy standing at the top of the straight, and hear him cheering.