Three Musketeers on a Sunday 

Oh what a comedy of errors it was.

It was a total of 22 but 25 was fixed in her head

Of which 12 was fast which they broke up

As 5 out to Worli and 6 back to the start.

 

When the end of 10 approached,

They realised 2 more left

Imagine their horror when the finish line

Just slid ahead by a full kilometre.

 

Following that were 2 hill repeats.

Which Boy 1 flew up over

Boy 2, the stronger one, stayed by her side,

As slow death found her.

 

In this brain dead state they counted the miles

Which just didn’t add up.

Oh forget it they said,

Let’s just finish the rest, with whatever strength we have left.

 

18.5 was done and they settled for 21,

25 for sure was not happening that day!

So off they went, out for 1.5 km

And dawdled back for most of the rest.

 

In the last part, something snapped in her

And she just went for it.

She picked up her knees and pumped her arms,

Ran, like she had never run before!

 

Finish the damn thing and be done with it, she thought.

Boy 1 who sprinted up the hill, the one who had whined the most,

Saw her zoom off and could not bear the sight

Of her leading the way.

 

He found some superhuman strength and reached beside her,

Surprised as she was, to see him there.

She upped the pace and he matched it,

He pushed it and she did not let go,

 

And they both dropped to their knees together

At the end of what became a 400m race

At the end

Of 21 long kilometres.

 

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