Cameron Loderunner had never run in his life.

Yes, his last name was Loderunner. No, he didn't live up to it.

His idea of cardio was frantically looking for the TV remote before his mom made him get off the couch. If his legs had brains, they'd have filed a complaint for negligence.

So when his school announced a "mandatory extracurricular participation program," Cameron panicked.

"Cameron," his mom said over breakfast, "how about chess club?"

"I tried. Got checkmated in four moves by someone who was asleep."

"Drama?"

"I played a tree. I got stage fright and forgot how to be a tree."

"Well? athletics it is!" she said brightly.

Cameron dropped his toast.

Day 1: Meet the Track Team

Athletics practice began on a Wednesday afternoon. The sun was doing that annoying "I'm here to ruin your life" thing, and Cameron showed up wearing jeans and a hoodie because, quote, "I didn't want to look too sporty."

Everyone else was in shorts and tank tops. Cameron looked like he was dressed for a Canadian winter in the Sahara.

Coach Blevins was a former Olympian turned high school gym teacher who wore sunglasses indoors and blew his whistle at birds for flying too slowly.

"Alright, team! Welcome to the sacred ground of speed, strength, and sweat!" he barked.

Cameron looked around. The track team had the usual suspects: tall kids who bounced like gazelles, short kids who ran like they were powered by rocket fuel, and then Cameron - who was already out of breath from walking to the field.

Coach Blevins narrowed his eyes. "What's your name, Hoodie Boy?"

"Uh? Cameron. Loderunner."

The coach blinked. "Your name is Loderunner and you're not already breaking records?"

"I mostly break chairs," Cameron offered.

Day 2: Warm-Up to Injury

The next day, Cameron came in proper gym wear. His sneakers were clean. His shirt read "No Pain No Pizza." He was ready. Sort of.

Warm-up began.

Jumping jacks? Fine. Arm circles? Cool. Jog around the track?

Cameron made it 200 meters before his lungs began doing whale sounds and his legs staged a minor rebellion.

He lay on the grass like a stranded walrus.

Coach Blevins leaned over him. "Son, you're gasping like a broken accordion."

"I think I pulled my dignity," Cameron wheezed.

Day 4: The Great Hurdle Conspiracy

Hurdles: a sport invented by someone who thought running wasn't painful enough and decided to add tripping hazards.

Cameron stared at the hurdles like they'd personally insulted his ancestors.

He took a deep breath, sprinted at the first one, jumped - and landed directly on it. Like a proud, majestic turkey crashing into a fence.

The hurdle broke. Cameron rolled. A nearby kid applauded. Coach Blevins wept into his clipboard.

Day 7: Relay Disaster

Coach decided it was time for relays. Teamwork! Speed! Precision!

Cameron was put on Team Lightning. Ironically, he was the slowest thing on it.

His job was to run the third leg of the race. First runner? Amazing. Second runner? Blazing fast.

Cameron got the baton.

He panicked.

He ran the wrong way.

"WRONG WAY, LODERUNNER!" someone yelled.

He U-turned, collided with the fourth runner, and dropped the baton. Then stepped on it. Then tripped over it.

Coach Blevins rubbed his temples. "At this point, I'm just impressed by your creativity."

Day 10: The 800-Meter Catastrophe

Coach Blevins, for reasons that may involve lost bets, signed Cameron up for the 800-meter event at the inter-school meet.

"That's two laps of the track," Cameron said, eyes wide.

"You can do it," Coach said.

"I'm not sure I can do two laps of thought without getting tired."

"You've got potential, Loderunner."

"You've got sarcasm."

But it was official.

The other kids were training like Olympic hopefuls. Cameron was eating yogurt and watching motivational penguin videos on YouTube.

The Night Before the Meet

Cameron couldn't sleep.

What if he tripped again? What if he collapsed? What if he threw up halfway and someone filmed it?

He paced around his room, occasionally sprinting five feet just to test his endurance. It was going badly.

He Googled, "How to survive 800 meters without dying." The top result was "Don't."

Still, he packed his bag. Water bottle. Clean socks. Emergency candy bar. (Two, just in case.)

Race Day: Enter the Loderunner

Cameron arrived at the stadium. It looked enormous. Crowds. Judges. Other schools. Athletes doing stretches that made them look like human pretzels.

Cameron stretched his hamstrings. They stretched back - painfully.

Coach handed him a number. "You ready, Loderunner?"

"I was born to sit down. But sure."

The 800-meter event was called. Cameron lined up. Next to him were runners with thighs like tree trunks and faces like serious math teachers.

The gun fired.

And they were off.

Cameron ran.

Okay, it was more of a determined wobble. But he moved.

Within ten seconds, the pack was ahead. Cameron was in last place. But he was moving. He reached the 200-meter mark and gave himself a mental high-five.

At 400 meters, he was still last - but now people were cheering.

"Go, Cameron!"

"You got this!"

"LODERUNNER!"

Wait? was that a chant?

Yes. His classmates had started a chant.

"LO-DER-UN-NER! LO-DER-UN-NER!"

Even Coach was yelling.

By the final lap, Cameron was wheezing. His legs felt like soup. But the chant kept him going.

The final 100 meters became a slow-motion scene in Cameron's brain.

He imagined dramatic music. A camera zooming in. A bald eagle flying overhead. A crowd in tears.

He sprinted the last stretch (more like galloped sadly), flailing like an inflatable tube man in the wind.

And then - he crossed the finish line.

Dead last.

But standing.

Cameron collapsed on the grass, smiling like a man who'd just outrun a bear.

Post-Race Glory (Sort Of)

The announcer didn't call his name. There was no medal. But his classmates mobbed him like he'd just won gold.

Coach Blevins came over, sunglasses tilted dramatically.

"Loderunner," he said. "That was? something."

"I didn't die!" Cameron gasped.

"And that's improvement. You've got heart."

"Yeah, I think it exploded somewhere around lap one."

"But you pushed through. That's what matters."

Cameron grinned. He was sore. He was exhausted. And he was proud.

One Month Later

Cameron didn't become a champion.

But he kept going to practice.

He got faster. Stronger. He learned how to hurdle without destroying school property. Mostly.

He even found his event: discus throw. Because, in his words, "It's just angry frisbee."

And sometimes, when the team chants "LO-DER-UN-NER," it's not even sarcastic.

Moral of the Story?

Never judge a Loderunner by his hoodie.

Because sometimes, the slowest runner ends up with the loudest cheer.

And sometimes, all you need to go the distance is a little courage, a lot of laughter, and a team that believes in you - even if you run like a confused squirrel on a trampoline.