The 6K

• Nikil Redipali, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2018

I find myself at the foot of a large hill; powering up it and feeling my quads burn, I reach the crest. A magnificent of Sydney greets me, tarnished by the burning in my lungs. My pace speeds up as I surge down the hill, overtaking runners and finding out that another ascent ahead is part of the cross country course.
Quickly, I scale up the next hill, feeling a burn in every muscle in my legs, but at least re-gaining my starting position. I find myself in the group of the top seven athletes. Knowing that top 6 go to nationals, I feel a bit safer now. A flat turfed section that seems to stretch into the horizon is ahead and I know I have to overtake now to get into a medalling position. How can I do this if there are people right behind me breathing on my neck and about to overtake? Huffing and puffing a lanky athlete begins to pass me, disrupting my plan. Now I’m 8th, but regaining my position now seems impossible with my legs screaming. I will beat him at the next hill, I resolve to myself.
Eventually, I reach the next hillock and glance up at the clump of runners ahead, and also spot the ant-sized distant frontrunner. I switch gears up the hill, knowing that I have nearly run 6km. Slipping and sweating up the pebbly hill, I find my way into the pack of runners with a pair of beat-up, burning legs. Scanning the course ahead, I spot the finish-line a soccer goal-post like structure with checked car racing flags on both top corners. I begin to sprint, making my way into 4th place and finding myself on the finishing straight. The roaring of the spectators is deafening. 3rd place is so close that I can touch him, but he is running strong and overtaking him will not be easy. “C’mon John, he’s catching up”
“Go, Ricky, you can beat him.” I hear my mum, and I know I’m not alone. Oh, what the hell, if I run so hard that I faint on the finish-line; it’ll be worth it if I medal. Calling on every ounce of strength, I pick up my pace. Finally I find myself neck and neck with 3rd place. My legs are numb, and I feel like throwing up. The athlete next to me is puffing hard. He is tired. I can beat him. Calling on the last gram of strength I lurch past him into the finish line knowing that I had him beaten. Shaking his hand, I feel like fainting and throwing up and my legs are not co-operating, but I know it was worth it because I can see my mum’s beaming, bronze face in the crowd.