Stellar“You’re not supposed to be here,” was the first thing my new coach told me when I walked into Academic Decathlon, a ten-event interdisciplinary competition that includes tests from literature to economics to speech, yet I would eventually become the Academic Decathlon individual champion. I was bewildered until he explained I was too late to join and that the counselor shouldn’t have let new kids in anymore. I had to argue with him for so long and beg him to let me stay and have a chance at participating in the Decathlon. Finally, in the second week of my freshman year, he decided to give me a shot.
My first month at Academic Decathlon was quite disappointing. I fooled around with my peers. Seven months in, I showed up to the first academic competition of my life and left empty-handed with no medals. The disappointment on my coach’s face stung. He looked like a typical Asian parent when you get a B in English: not furious at all, just deeply let down, making clear that he had expected more from a kid who begged to join.
However, something shifted in my sophomore year. I worked harder than anybody around me. I read for hours every single day. I wanted to change the world’s impression of me: lazy and inconsistent. When I scored 30/50, beating the average of 20/50, on our first literature practice test, I saw hope; I saw a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel. At that moment, I stopped doubting my work ethic— I knew I was capable, I just needed to work harder for it. That day, I went up to my coach for advice on how to improve my score. He paused as he looked at me. “Just read,” he told me.
That was his only advice. It sounded too simple. I refused to believe his statement until I decided to face the study material of over 1,000 pages of pure, raw facts. Then, I realized what he meant. Academic Decathlon success isn’t about talent as I previously thought. It was about discipline. No genius is born knowing about the plot of Octavia Butler’s Childfinder or the social costs of carbon dioxide. Day after day, I stayed late. I read everything. Then, finally, it was the day of the competition. I walked into El Camino Real Charter High School proud and ready to lead my private school division to victory at Regionals. However, I was struck with disappointment when I heard that we didn’t qualify for state due to a lack of school performance.
It hurt me a lot, since all I cared about was redeeming my performance the first year. I felt like I was stuck in a loop, history repeating itself, and that night, sitting alone, I wondered if this was the universe telling me to give up on Academic Decathlon.
I thought about my academic decathlon career when I transferred to a public school in my junior year. I was filled with relief when I realized my new school didn’t have a decathlon team. I thought I could finally be done with decathlon once and for all. But no, I was wrong. When I discovered Academic Decathlon individual competition, I was fueled with a new sense of hunger and motivation: to prove that I am capable of winning nationals at Decathlon; to prove that I was deserving of success with what I learned and my hard work; to prove that the issue at qualifying for state had never been my issue. Therefore, I decided to enter the Decathlon Individual competition.
For months, I studied a variety of topics, from musical works such as Rhapsody in Blue to the fundamentals of art like perspective and abstraction. 400 hours and 6 months of sleeping just 5 hours a day all built up to May 2nd of 2025. Throughout that journey, I questioned myself so many times why I should even keep going if I might not even succeed. In April, I was overwhelmed, torn between studying for AP exams and preparing for Nationals. One night, exhausted and behind on both, I almost gave up, but I pushed through, reminding myself why I started. Despite all that, it finally paid off when I clicked the pdf of results on May 22nd: I did it, I finally achieved my dream of winning Decathlon Nationals, placing first in the nation.
As I congratulated myself for finally overcoming this hurdle that’s been bothering me for 3 years, I had an epiphany. A thought that maybe there was more than just simply winning medals. Although I started off as the worst, I realized when studying for the individual competition that you don’t need to be the smartest person in the room. Just because you didn’t have an elite coach or a competitive environment to push you doesn’t mean you’re not capable of winning a competition. The true accomplishment for me was that I learned to have hope and faith in my abilities. Instead of simply denying that I wasn’t made for Academic Decathlon, I sought to change what I had previously thought of myself: a failure who wasn’t going to have dedication in any particular field.
As I admit, winning felt incredible. However, I didn’t win because I was gifted; I won because I kept going. I kept going through mental pain of having to read every single day. I kept going when every part of me told me to stop and get some help. That, more than anything, is what led me to success. Yes, the golden medals made me ecstatic, and yes, I did enjoy looking at that “1st” next to my name. Nevertheless, as I came to realize, the journey was what truly mattered, because it was the journey throughout these 3 years that created the result, not the result that defined the journey.