The Run

'How can a fat guy run so fast' i murmured to myself as i turned my head n glanced for the dunno how many times at this sloppy piece of wobbling fats that is going to catch up with me once again. i had pulled away from him times n times but he just couldnt be totally shook off.
'No he is not running very fast, in fact it is me who is slowing down to let him catch up with me.'
Could it be my complacancy or his sheer determination?
i hastened my pace but suddenly i feel fatigued. My legs suddenly feel like giving way. Am i mentally unprepared for this challenge.
The determined look on the fat ass is disgushing to me, sort of belittling all that i had done.
I know he know very well that he could catch up with me but what had happened to all my lead.
I knew very well in the beginning tt he is of no threat but things had changed, changed very much.
The fat ass wasnt interested in how others look at him. That is why he could fully concentrate on his run, his breathing, his pacing. He is focused while i am disillusioned by this false sense of victory that i had given myself right from the start.
'Will i lose this race?' finally i had came to accept the thought of losing to this fat ass; a thought tt would had been deemed as ridiculous before. But the threat had always been there just tt i wasnt awared.
I wasnt too mentally prepared for this challenge but i knew i couldnt lose. I would pound and bang myself for losing lead, for celebrating an unfinished race.
"i couldnt lose ...l couldnt....lose," admist my irregular breathing i could hear another set of breathing getting louder and louder.