Today I ran three and a half miles of cross country with my dad. The grass was all muddy and wet. When I finished I was covered in muck. About two miles into my run a black dog jumped on me and pulled my pants down to my knees. Embarrassing. The dog was called Magic. I know this because the lady who was walking him was shouting at him to get down.
Through the run we were jumping over walls and fences. We ran along a narrow bank next to the river and at one point I was looking out at the mountains and I fell. It was very sore but I carried on.
At the end of the run I had to run up a big hill. I sprinted away from dad. He couldn't keep up with me. He said it was because of his sore bum. Likely story.
Slán | 