At around the age of 8 or 9, my Mum decided that I needed to get out into the real world and get a taste of 'Saturday life', and all it had to offer. So, on the advice of my much older and wiser 10 year old cousin, I chose to join the local craft club. Each Saturday morning from that day onwards, I would join the 6 or 7 other girls in the hot, cramped 'Cathy's Crafts' store in Montmorency. For $7 a week I could paint pieces of wood shaped as teddies, or perhaps even stick some glitter on a nice picture for Mother's Day. Either way it served as a warning for the rest of my life that craft was definitely not my scene.

Project after project, week in, week out, I came home bearing one more useless, awful testament to bad taste and craftsmanship. Mum would be gently supportive - with kind words such as "why don't you give this to Nana for Chr

A lap and a half later, gasping for air and aching all over from the pain in my legs and chest, I somehow managed to cross the finish line. The rest of the race had passed in a blur of pain, wheezing and dizziness. I had finished in third place, the judges informed me. Sarah was standing by the judges' table, sipping a water bottle and grinning and laughing with one of the older girls from her club. A couple of minutes later my friend Lisa finished, and we sat together, trying to regain our breath and keep down our lunches at the same time.

So, one week when the marshal finally called us up to the line, I pushed my way to the front, next to Sarah. I smiled at her and wished her luck, whilst picturing her crying and sobbing at the end of the race. Everyone was still for the gun. Then - BANG! As always, I got off to a flying start, and led the field by a couple of metres at the end of the first hundred. I concentrated on my breathing - in, out, in, out, slow it down... don't panic... my legs were flying away from me, my action was tight, and I felt a sudden rush of confidence and energy. Never before had I led a Walk coming into the second lap. That day, I was in front. Coming around the bend, I spotted Sarah's Mum, a Walk judge. I tightened my leg muscles and concentrated on my action. Bend, straighten, bend, bend, straighten, bend, breathe, breathe, breathe... I walked past Sarah's Mum confident that my action didn't warrant a report. I relaxed slightly and sped up a bit. I knew I had to keep my legs under control, but I also knew that out of the judge's sight, if I relaxed slightly I could gain some more speed.

After that, I never came close to beating Sarah again. Although I had finished a very respectable third, gained a personal best and finished first out of my club, I still felt incredibly disappointed and almost incompetent. The last I heard of Sarah she was in Perth competing in the world championships for the Walk. A year later I quit Little Aths and found a new Saturday activity - Saturday morning sport, at school. I have not competed in the Walk for 4 years.

My Saturdays have always held some sort of special reverence in my mind. They have played host to ma

Some common words found in the essay are:
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Approximate Word count = 1489
Approximate Pages = 6 (250 words per page double spaced)