Running Poetry XVIII

This is proof. The evidence dear readers! My penchant for the dramatic in full display. However, you must forgive me. I just ran a mile or 2 and I’m not quite myself.

Ancient and surly
Guardian of the rubber track
Get off the fast lanes!

Through fire and debris
Through crippling terror and pain
No force shall stop them

No carb diet killed
Even the barest attempt
Of all out running

Any second
The seams will tear
And I reckon
Feet will go bare

When I cross that line
These wet noodles I call legs
Better be running

Idealistic
Though unrealistic, I
Faltered at sixteen

Pacing forgotten
Yet I overcame target
Quite please with myself

Junk mile
Easy run
It took a while
But I did have fun

My hardest workout
Ever, which is also what
I complained last week

Something in my eye
A sharp speck that vexes me
And obscures vision

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