My Poem About Running
Saturday, June 13, 2020
I slip on my running shoes,
then my headphones.
I have to find the pace to choose,
and prepare myself down to the bone.
There is nothing super fancy,
about distance running.
You just can't be a "Nancy",
and give up when things are challenging.
Marathons began in Athens, Greece,
by a man protecting those he cherished.
After 26.2 miles he dropped and deceased,
but the memory of his honor never parished.
I remember this story,
before every start.
I want to run with glory,
and passion from my heart.
See in the first 10 miles,
it is all about form.
But in the next 10 miles,
you must start to prepare for the storm.
The last 6.2 mile leap,
is brutal and sheer pride.
You must dig down deep,
and focus on each stride.
The legs will shake,
and the lungs will pound.
You feel as though you just may break,
and become a pool of nothing on the ground.
You look down at your watch,
and see you are close to a new goal.
So you need to go up, just one notch,
by digging into your soul!
At this point you know,
nothing else going on around.
You and the pain will tango,
as you feel each foot hit the ground.
I can now see the finish line,
and break into a sprint.
Moments like this can be so devine,
and in your soul leave an imprint!
Written by Richard A. Baker