"Huff... Huff... P... Professor! I... I thought you said only the losing team would have to do three laps!"
"I did," says her instructor. "That was a lie."
"It wouldn't be a fair regimen if I forced one team to do three laps and the other none. Only one side would reap the benefits."
Bernadetta's already sluggish pace slows to an absolute crawl. She barely manages another step before staggering, hands on her knees. "Can't... keep... going...! Oh sweet peaceful earth, whisk me away from this nightmare to the hereafter... or at least to my room..."
"Pathetic," Sothis manifests upon an upended peach basket. "How are the rest of them faring?"
"See for yourself," he motions.
Edelgard, Dorothea and Hubert maintain a respectable pace in the middle of the pack, never too far ahead or behind. In a burst of noble theatrics, Ferdinand starts off strong, but his early lead is wasted by near-instant fatigue. He, Lysithea, Marianne, and a rather determined Flayn make up the rear of the class. Opposite Ferdinand is Petra, who quickly surges from the back of the class to the front. Only Caspar is ahead of her, fueled by breakfast and adrenaline, but his second lap sees him abandoning the lead to see to the class's less-than-fortunate stragglers.
"Damn it..." Linhardt exhales. "Damn it, damn it, damn it... huff... How am I... behind... Berna... Bernadetta...! It's... unheard of...!"
"Don't worry Linhardt, I've got ya! You too, Bernadetta!"
"Caspar, what are you doing?!"
"Aaaaaaaaaah! Not again! Let me go!"
Byleth and Sothis are swept by the winds of a cyan, purplish, greenish blur blitzing past them. Sothis flinches while Byleth continues feasting on his fish-on-a-stick. Appropriately, Sothis gives him a double take upon opening her eyes.
"Where did you—?"
"I skipped lunch."
The subject is dropped thereafter.