“Racers, to your marks!”
{text:child_name} looked down the long dusty road. The path wound through the woods and over the old stone bridge.
It was a beautiful route, but today it felt like a battlefield.
The whisper of ambition stirred inside.
Sam, last year’s winner, was edging up to the starting line.
“Sam's not going to win this year,” {text:child_name}'s inner voice whispered, "This is my moment. Don’t look back. Don’t slow down. Just win.”
The flag dropped. The crowd roared.
A dozen bikes surged forward, tires spitting gravel into the air.
The Great Oak Race had begun!
The wind rushed past {text:child_name}'s ears.
The path became a blur of green leaves and brown dirt.
One by one, the other racers faded behind.