Somebody has to lose. In fact, all except one will lose. It doesn't seem fair to me as I plow into our first barrier: a swift river. I make sure to keep my snout above the splashing current, and frantically paddle my hooves. Pigs aren't great swimmers. If you didn't already know that. The rat scuttles past, and I hear a squeaky chuckle.
Okay, so nobody expects anything from the Pig. If the last race was any indication, things do not look promising for me. Even I am afraid to get my hopes up.
But there is still this nagging dream. If I finish this race, I can create a new image for my fellow pigs: no longer laughingstocks, only good for bacon, but respected and admired animals.
My hooves come in contact with the rocky shore of the other side, and I pull myself onto the riverbank. I am cold and already exhausted, but I head for the forest, determined to do my best. Even though nobody expects anything, maybe - just maybe - I will surprise myself.