Sometimes a morning run inspires some poetic thoughts. These might not be Shakespeare, but they're definitely words that speak to the passions of the common people--well, at least the common runner.
I'm a runner.
What is a runner?
Someone who runs
even when it's nothing but San Francisco fog outside
the streets and trails are empty
the mp3 player is broken
legs are burning
the last round is still ringing.
Who keeps running
up the hill
to the ocean
through the sprinklers
beyond exhaustion
farther.
farther than they knew they could,
further than before
Someone who runs because the faster and further their legs carry them forward,
the more alive they feel.
Am I a runner?
Better get out there and find out.
Run with a smile on.
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2 comments:
Thanks for your poem - it's great...
as struggling runner in san francisco myself - can you tell me more about that feeling of being alive...
(Jo from Flamingo)
Sure Jo -- I might just have to go do some active physical research into it right now, first ;)
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