The Miler

Hear me out, this is my tale

Of springtime suffering  - to what avail?

A sunny day, an asphalt path

As we gather, my nervous laugh

The lanes are filled, and voices cease

Nerves on edge, not one knows peace

Bang! A noise, and then I start

Bodies blur, I know my part

Twenty runners clumped as one

Athletic irony, is agony fun?

Four laps to go, my doubts begin

This race is long, I cannot win

“Three to go”, I’ve fallen back

Now consumed within the pack

Will I finish? My hopes are dim

My legs on fire, my breath is thin

Two laps down, this race is long

“Two to go”, am I yet strong?

My heart beats loud, comes through my chest

I tell myself , “This is a test….

If I survive, complete the race

I don’t care if I’m in last place”

“One to go” I hear the bell

And then the crowd begins to yell

My faith renewed, my second wind

I race around the final bend

Now sprinting hard, and moving fast

I realize - -  I won’t be last!

“Pass just three more” I say out loud

My final strength comes from that crowd

I cross the line, fall to the grass

The final three I did just pass

I will be sick, of that I’m sure

Breathing slow my only cure

I leave the field, my race complete

Fist bumps to those I could not beat

I search to find a place to rest

Console myself, “ You did my best”