Go Oz

Every runner has a reason Why he’s in the race And each makes the decision Of attire, gear and pace. I stood out in the freezing cold And watched them dash on by, United by a goal, yet Most unique in how they’d try. Across the street, I saw some signs – “Go Oz!” in big bold print So Oz (whoever he might be) Would catch it on his sprint. Then suddenly a roar rang out And it was what I guessed; A shirtless runner came in view With OZ spelled on his chest. He loped along with arms aloft, His face a beaming grin As if, by seeing all his friends, He’d gone and snared a win. His finish time’s a mystery But surely such support Helped both Oz and all the racers In the spirit of the sport.