It seemed like a lots of fun,
Like a race already won.
I thought it was a joke,
But then the coach spoke.
"Meets until eight, practice till four."
Please, I'm begging you no more!

Day after day, we hit the field,
Running like anything, without yield.
Heavy breathing, red face,
I would like to file a case!
But then came the very first meet,
We thought we were in for a treat.

I was running on of the first,
Walking to the track feeling cursed.
The gunshot rang,
And oh, how I sprang!
A sprint to the very end,
I could hear my screaming friend.

No trophy or medal waited for me,
But I could finally see.
The wind in my hair,
The speed was rare.
I really like to run,
Even though practice wasn't fun!