The time had come. A winter sport with curves, slides and hills. The dreaded Cross Country.

At the stared line I felt that I could jump a mile high. Still I had to store my precious energy and preserve my legs. When they pressed the commanding horn hell was breaking loose.

The first lap. Running around the field was hard enough but there was the biggest highlight and the most intimidating part of the coarse. The hill of dread. It was as tall as Mt Olympus and as slippery as an ice rink.I was determined to climb the mountain while using all my strength. Suddenly I slipped but got up as fast as a spring in action. Going down the hill put deep pressure on me. What if I hit a stick or stomp on a razor sharp rock on my jelly like feet. When I finally took control on my feet I saw a tree standing like a disciplined soldier. Then it made me wonder if I can climb that giant again.

On the second lap I saw some lighting speed runners already finished at the blink of an eye. I didn't mind and just kicked in gear. Again came the hill of dread. when I got to the top I thought I was going to fall down with the same fate as the  mighty Goliath. Remembering the finishing chute was near. I kept going. Finally when I hit Spencer road all there was is the chute.

When I hit 'The chute of Heaven' I tried  to dash my to paradise. I was trying to beat my opponent, but that didn't happen. But luckily I din't come last in shame.