Roman
"Goddamn it..." he grumbled starting a modestly paced jog past her. Once he got away, he picked up the pace, moving at a relatively intense speed. He had always heard running was about pacing yourself or something. It didn't matter. She said to run around a couple of times, which in his mind meant three. If he didn't ask to clarify, she couldn't get mad at him for not knowing right?
Every minute of that run was filled with those same thoughts. Could he do this. Please stop running. Your legs hurt, its hard. But this time, he kept running, he ignored those thoughts.
It took about 15 minutes of constant running but he finally arrived back where she was sitting. Coming to a full stop, it felt like his heart was trying to blast through his chest. Every breath was a gasp, his underdeveloped chest going in and out. "What are you doing?" he finally asked in between breaths.