I was panting, my breathing steadily getting heavier and heavier. My calves aching by the time the first lap came around. You are so out of shape, I told myself once the mile was half over, and I had beads of sweat trickling down my face. And naturally, it was an 80˚ day and I could basically see the heat rising from the asphalt. I tried my best to not walk, and to keep on running, but it was just so hard. My head was throbbing, my entire body aching, and as the last lap came around, I was practically dieing. I tried to run faster in the last lap, but I couldn’t manage to increase my speed by much. When the finish line came closer, somewhere inside of me I found a surge of energy, and blasted to the finish line. I probably didn’t look like much to the people watching, but to me it was a huge difference. My final time was 9:15, which although it’s a lot higher than my pervious score, I’m glad that my time wasn’t over 10:00. And as i stood there, a few feet from the track, my whole body aching and sweating; i smiled to myself knowing what i just did, and how amazing i felt after i'd done it, knowing that i pushed my self to do the impossible. Or at least, what i thought was impossible.