The silence screams your name,
It's beauty mocks your pain,
The sun's rays burn your skin,
And you long to give in.

But you can't, you wont, you swear,
You are almost halfway there.
As you sit down in the shade
Feeling slightly dazed,
You place your hands on your knees
And pray for this pain to ease.

When the time comes, you lift your pack,
And pull it onto your aching back.
Stumbling the last few miles to the camp,
Your sweat turning your clothes damp.

When dawn turns to dusk, you climb in your tent,
And onto the sleeping mat that on the journey has become slightly bent.
Sighing, you turn onto your side,
Screaming as you see something that has crawled into your tent and died.
Turning over once again, you close your eyes,
Attempting to sleep, despite the chatter of the guys.

In the morning, when you awake,
You realise there isn’t a part of you that doesn’t ache,
But when 9:00 rolls around your team set off again,
Wondering if, at the end, there will be some champagne.

This day seems harder, this pain more real,
As you feel the blisters building up on the bottom of your heel.
Your team get lost no less than thrice,
The heat of the day leaves you longing for some ice.
At the next checkpoint you stick on what feels like the umpteenth sticker,
And hope that this time you can walk a little quicker.

But after a little while,
The pain begins to pile,
Your steady pace turns into a hobble,
The sickening pain makes you wobble.

You are now walking so slowly that your team have to stop,
And onto the floor you immediately drop.
As you attempt to stand again the pain throws you back;
You are left defeated, and curl up on your pack.