I could taste my own fear. It felt like fright and horror. My heart sounded like waves washed up in the sea. The mud was saturated in water and grass; you couldn't just see it, you could feel it. The air was fresh and clear and the only sound was the crackling of trees and yelps of children yelling. I seemed to feel the odd sad bit. All of a sudden I gazed up and saw my mum.
An hour passed and it was race time. My foot had the odd quiver. Smash! I was off, jogging at the back of the herd. By the time the fence came up I felt better after I had passed about ten people. Up and over, thinking first, I am glad it is not the gut buster. Slip slop, oops, I slipped in mud; I kept standing though. At the end Ella was only one metre in front. Well, that's it.
I was gutted as I pushed myself to the tarpaulin. It was the best race ever. One metre, I thought, not bad.
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