When it was time to run, Ram started slow with Nick on the block run.
Lungs burning, legs aching, mouth gasping for air, swallowing breaths, sometimes bugs, arms pumping, feet stomping and even worst of them all, stitches. The temptation to walk was slowing Ram down and Nick had already started walking. Ram took a few walking steps, not one, not two but three. He looked at his feet, brought his head back up and released a final strong burst of energy and jogged off. Up-hills, down-hills, straight runs, this ain't fun, no pun, jog like a bullet from a gun, nearly there, do not dare, Ram is scared, he didn't care, at the school, this is cool, don't stand still like a stool. This was it, all the hard work wasn't for nothing. Ram went through the Year 8 boys lane and collected his number from Ms. Goldfinch. Panting, breathing, gasping, swallowing. Ram was proud about himself, 75, not bad. Ram walked to Room 15 and shouted: "I didn't die!"