Another Sunday Morning

Another Sunday morning Crouched in the beam of headlights Steam coming off coffee and breath Fumbling to pin race bib to pants A romance Of sorts; this dance I’m addicted to Those magic numbers: 5k, 13.1, and The boss lady: 26.2 (I’m coming after you) But why? Friends ask You’re crazy they say on posts Of me on each early Sunday I say nothing back, but heart the comment I can’t explain what the rhythmic pound; the sound of New Balanced footstrikes does For the broken part of me How the week’s aggression That needs suppressing is sweated out And gathered up in Nike’s moisture-wicking fabric How weaving through the crowd of neophytes Wearing today’s race shirt, alternately Sprinting then walking And the kids, eager, then over it The moms reclaiming a body that sheltered The now-strollered baby The geriatrics, shoes well-used Nimble limbs, not brittle but abused From pounding pavement years before this This environment, atmosphere Big race crowds or small informal Stopwatch race; doesn’t matter Just involved; a part of this kinship Unspoken club affiliation; in passing Not a wave, but nod A head bob of appreciation For another’s association; Obsession with times, miles, Post-race selfie smiles Because I know there will come a day That my body will betray My runner’s soul. But for now I stand at the start Ready for race gun and one more mile 2/14/19 Hobbies Contest Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver