The Slowest Race

I slipped through the gate into the morning air and immediately spotted a tiny visitor. On top of a mossy red brick, a little garden snail was creeping forward, leaving a faint shiny trail behind. Another shell friend! I hurried over, planted my feet beside the brick, and made an instant decision: we were having a race. But this was a slow race! I tucked my arms tight against my ribs, leaned forward, and nudged my left foot ahead by just one tiny millimeter. It took immense balance not to topple over! My toes twitched and my shell swayed, but I kept its exact pace along the entire border. Quietest, slowest victory yet!