Watching the news after brekkie, I was amazed. A man quarantined in a hotel had run a 42km marathon - smashing out thousands of laps of his tiny room!
<I could do that!> I thought, hopping up. I had nothing better to do!
In grade 5, I hadn’t been to school for a couple of weeks because of the coronavirus.
After running through the playroom and the kitchen, I looped the dining room table, then sprinted to the front door. <Tap!>
Once, I’d hit it, it was time for another lap. ‘What are you doing?’ my parents, Sarah and Simon asked. ‘A marathon!’ I puffed.
Later on, when Mum took me, my sister, Keira, 12, and brother, Toby, seven, for a walk around the lake near our house, I zoomed past the slowpokes <seven> times!
‘You’ve got to keep your energy up, Billy!’ Mum said back home, making me stop to eat a banana, a boiled egg, or slurp down some energy drink.
By 30km, I was pretty tired. <I just want an ice cream,> I thought. But I was determined.
Then, at 9pm, after running for 13 hours, and clocking up 58,000 steps, I did the final lap around our block as Mum and Dad cheered me on in the dark.
‘42!’ I yelled proudly, collapsing on the grass.
Now, I’m hoping my epic achievement will go viral - the good way!
