Stories

The Sponsored Lie

It’s a new year and I feel like I need to expose my lies.

First up: The Sponsored Lie


Growing up, I was always told to be charitable and respectful to those who have less than me. So when I was about 8 I decided to run 5km (non-stop) around my road for a charity called Shelter.

I can’t exactly remember if it was my idea or my parents, but for perhaps a couple of months I violently pressured family members and neighbours to sponsor me. Overall I, more or less, received ¬£250.

Before I go into the details I would like to add that I was more sporty and active than I am now, making this run for 8 year old me slightly more realistic (for those of you who probably don’t believe me)

So soon the day arrived; my grandparents came down from Suffolk, my siblings were forced to stand on the road looking warm and supportive, a couple of neighbours actually went out of their front door and it looked like I would raise a tiny sum of money for charity.

However, what my parents and the donors didn’t know was that I was a little bitch and probably failed the non-stop run and that they should have been refunded entirely for their minuscule donations. *Something I feel incredibly bad about by the way

5km equates to about 10 laps around my road and apparently that was very difficult for active me.

The first 4 went great. I can’t remember, but I’m pretty sure that they went well. The next 6? Well, they were crap.

You see, as I struggled my way through the 5th lap, passing my grandparents smiling and clapping for me, I wanted to collapse. I wanted to collapse and have a nice bath filled with all of the lush crap I used to like (and still like tbh).
But I couldn’t do that, because people had paid pennies to see me die. Sorry, I mean run 5km.

Therefore, I came up with a plan.

Whilst dragging my legs around my road I noticed that outside one house was a very nice and large bright red fence, open and resting on a large portion of the road; perfect for blocking their neighbours’ view of their house. And perfect for dying 8 year olds to have a 1 minute rest.

Sorry about that.

So whilst I ran around the highway of hell, I used to take small breaks of 1-5 minutes rest. Making the non-stop 5km run I did for charity utter, utter tripe.

Although I thought that this technique worked, I realise now that it would have been so stupid for onlookers, as one minute I would have been flailing enormously, and the next I would have veered off to the right and hid behind this fence; making me entirely visible to the road ahead of me, due to the fact that only one side of the gate was open, and that the road turns from that person’s house, with no hedges blocking the view. Not only this, but the people behind me probably knew what I was doing as well, as they would have most definitely seen me pull a Houdini.

Well done Sofia, well done.

Thankfully, my house is opposite the hiding place I used to have, so my parents never actually found out; meaning that they still love me. I think.

This said, I am pretty sure that they knew something was up; the 5th lap included a 5 minute break and it was, as I passed the house, that they started bringing out refreshments and asking me if I was alright. *Which I was; I had just started to breathe again.

10 laps completed, and 5km later, I was done.

Everyone was proud; or pretended that they were; they said their congratulations and gave me warm embraces, and I repaid  them with sweat and a fat lie, both of which I have never forgotten or can remove from that one pink t-shirt. (Jk)

I mean, I did round up money for homeless children, but I have been riddled with the guilt for many years. I think about it when I go to bed at night, to when I sit in boring Head of Year assemblies.

So I suppose the ending of this would be me announcing that because of the trauma that this has caused me, I will do it again, but this time, properly. However, in my typical style, I won’t because it’s unrealistic due to the fact that even running up the stairs gives me a stitch, let alone running laps and laps around my bumpy and treacherous road. Perhaps I will do it again in the more distant future when I’m not half-dead from my mock exams.

Or perhaps I will just have a sponsored netflix marathon.

Yeah, that sounds good.

That sounds better.

 

Best wishes,

Sofia

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