A Morning Run

They run in the morning darkness
Just bouncing flashes of light
Too far ahead for me to hear
What they are talking about.

I feel like I’m climbing Everest
On that final push in the dark
Where I’m locked into every step and
Imprisoned within my thoughts of finishing.

I’m running without a light,
Counting on my night vision and
The contours of the road to guide me safely.
Both adding to the thrill.

For I’m chasing the pack,
And running with fear about those behind catching me,
The oxygen feels thinner, my lungs and legs ache,
My hands are getting cold, and I’m alive

Because I am testing myself,
Four weeks into this level of running and
The changes are beginning to happen,
I’m starting to believe again.

The believing
Is charging the batteries of my competitive self
That have truly lit my way in life,
Maybe covering for a lack of talent or smarts,

But always keeping me in the game and
Feeling like I might have a chance.
As the lights pass beyond where the darkness lets them be seen,
They disappear. I know that someday I will catch them.

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Running without stress
Kinetic freedom striding
Goals getting checked off

 

Photo Credit: By Kyle Cassidy (Email) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

After the Mad Dog Seven

Intermittent fasting,
Taking leave of gluttony, but
This morning’s run
Sucked all my commitment away.
The doldrums set in,
The malaise took effect,
Finally, I could stand it no more.
Two donuts broke my fast,
Momentarily, I felt better.
Now I’m wanting more.

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A blue balloon
Clipped to a black hoody
Trailing a slow running 9th grader
Teased a reticent runner
Into following along.
He took jabs and cross hooks
At the dancing balloon
Which slipped the punches
With a knuckleball bob and weave.
The round didn’t last three minutes
As the pugilistic player
Had not a puncher’s chance
And he got lost in the weight
Of oxygen debt,
Personal doubt, and
The realization of Rendell’s commentary
On the state of toughness
Seeping from our society.
Walking became his Rope-a-Dope,
Gasping for breath his Tyson mouthpiece moment,
And as a side stitch set into spasm
The young fighter, once barely a runner,
Showed the glass jaw quality of his meager endurance.

Ding. Ding.

9/3/Run

 

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Old songs
In new playlists
Helps make
Running enjoyable.

Bright sun
Bolstered by heavy air
Helps make
Suffering of running.

Sun and songs
Together motivators
Helping to make
Success.

Training Again. Why?

Beginning is hard
Father and daughter running
Future suffering

At Least It Felt Good?

It was about an hour in before
I started hearing the voices,
Goggins, Hritz, Ferriss, Hubba, Reggio,
Each talking their motivational s#*t,
Each getting pushed aside as the laps accumulated.

It was the first run after a winter of pneumonia,
After the disarray of basketball,
After the excitement of baseball, and
The welcome of pre-retirement practice,
AKA, summer vaca…

The track was the same,
Sixteen laps to a mile,
The old guy with short shorts was still
Teaching old ladies and sounding as if he
Was of the Wink Martindale of kickboxing.

The shoes were new,
Fresh, right out the box,
New Balance, probably about 70% made in the USA,
Which didn’t figure into my purchase,
They just felt good.

So, an hour in,
And the ache of inactivity was upon me,
But the goal was all Clubber, “Pain,”
Because Hritz has been pushing Goggins
And it was time that this aging guy of privelege and avoidance suffered.

The truth is that we all probably go easy
Looking for the economy, the proximity, the most convenient,
I watched a guy wait for a parking spot at Wal-Mart,
The second in its row,
While the third spot was empty as #2 pushed the cart out of the store.

So, an hour in,
The suffering began,
Keep in mind that I was slow, like never had run this slow,
Managing only two laps at a time, then taking a walk break,
Ferriss began suggesting meditation, but I was too far gone for that.

Perhaps though, self-talk is a kind of meditation,
I barked at me for being so lazy,
I encouraged me to keep on going,
I started thinking about the old people down below
And said, I should be more like them for they seemed to not be suffering.

So, an hour in,
Hubba and Reggio, friends, the same
But different, began their ranting about being weak,
Getting old, having lost it,
For awhile I listened, thinking of some comebacks. Nothing worked.

Then, the class below changed,
Two tanned teachers and a slightly younger clientele began their jumping around
Their energy was different, but their schtick was the same as December
When the bug first knocked me down.
I was really suffering, then… and, now…

A buzz on my wrist
Broke my thoughts of new-goal-survival-mode
I looked down to see six-miles down
At an hour and forty-five minutes gone.
Maybe the slowest ever, but back for more challenges.

(8) Just Me Marathon: Metrics (6/7)

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“I challenge myself to stop comparing what I learn to the past.” Scott Belsky

An accomplishment,
Trees growing to touch the sky
Measure nature’s chi.
Running matters so little
Compared to life’s long journey.

 

Photo Credit: Pexels.com