Running Poetry XX

Here’s another batch of poems from my halcyon days of running. Back then, I had more time to stretch my legs. I had more time to nurture my competitive spirit. I had more time to giggle at the word ‘fartlek’. I had more time to dream. Those were great days.

Grown men giggling as
Sandals slapped against their heels
Mimicking my stride

Gave in to instinct
The hunger drove me, moved me
Towards a grand feast

Maintain the barest
Semblance of control and let
The fall take over

Fettered by questions
Answers from tricky pages
Stopped asking, just ran

Cheerless sky deities
Pelted cold wind and drizzle
Drew warmth from prayer

Focus
On my breathing
On my stride
On my path
Focus
Follow breathing
Extend stride
Mind my path
Focus

High beam headlights set
Eye sockets afire
Blind to serious threats
As horns join the choir

Staggered out of bed
Each stride lacked motivation
Changed course back to bed
And resumed hibernation

Heat is no excuse
For walking and water breaks
Walked home as penance

The tale has ended
And all that remains is the
Drawn out epilogue

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