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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required we gather together, a hundred or so stetching, warming cold muscles, just waiting to go nervous anticipation, just wanting to start, we collect our numbers, have a piss, have a fart as our tummies stir with butterflies and angst we stand at the starting line a group, a phalanx a marshall says ready, then silence, we know that what is coming next is a timed, shouted "GO" Then en masse, as a block we all start to run A mass of humanity, that moved at the gun it starts as a lurch, and bumped elbows and arms theres no place for courtesy, gentlemanly charms as the race now begins all focussed, eyes front all searching for space, a chance, a gap, that's the hunt it all settles down by five hundred metres the field becomes spread - plodders, speedsters... and cheaters oh indeed, there are those that break all the rules that cut corners, take drugs, but they take us for fools we know who they are , they stand out by a mile they have previous you see, they are all down on file the rest of us plod on, except those with speed they zoom off ahead, running far into the lead and now its a mile and the legs now feel good the early stiffness is gone, they don't feel like wood feet schlepping softly, breathing steady and strong we're well in our groove, legs easy, striding so long the field has thinned out now, runners spread afar from leaders to last man, some in costumes bizarre all doing their damndest, to complete in style, to push through the aches and pains, right through the last mile in the last mile it tells, when not all's quite right when breathing is ragged, the end still not in sight the quads are now burning, both feet feel so hot sweat runs into our eyes, and our gait is all shot the last hundred metres seems like a trial the finish line grows distant, seems like a mile crowds clapping and cheering, all willing us on we're all in it together until the day's done finally the line comes, it arrives in a rush across it we stagger, everything hurting so much we've done it, we've finished, completed at last we did what we could though by no means at all fast we few, we happy few, we band of brothers we drink water, eat cake, make small talk with others and now its all over, its back home for rest to shower, to relax - then to plan for the next. (c) ian diddams 2018
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