(with apologies to E. A. Poe)
Once upon a hillside dreary, a man pondered, weak and weary
Fifty miles had left him teary, pain that he could not ignore
As the sweat dripped, nearly blinding, and the blisters kept on grinding
He made a choice that was binding, finding that he’d run no more.
“This’s the last one,” said the runner, grateful that he’d run no more
“Damn, my knees are really sore.”
After running fifty miles, even death would give him smiles
If it meant that running’s trials – pain and boredom – were done for
Over the thunderous beating of his heart he stood, repeating
“I no longer am competing. It stops here,” he truly swore
“I am really done competing,” once again he truly swore
“Running stops forever more.”
For all his life he kept that oath, to run one more step he was loath
His stomach showed a rapid growth, a tighter belt that he deplored
On the couch he faced each morrow, in larger clothes he had to borrow
Hiding in the fear of sorrow—sorrow from pain he abhored
When asked if he would run again, mindful of what he abhored
Quoth the runner; “Nevermore.”
Don’t worry – no one’s quitting. 😉 Ruth and I are just going through an annoying patch of injuries, which will pass, sooner or later.
This piece was originally intended to go with the photoshopped finish line picture I recently published at Queen Mobs Place. Reduce, reuse, recycle.