Ilene Bauer Poet Rhyme

Bob

He used to race 100 miles
And tell us all about it.
We always saw him running,
So we had no cause to doubt it.

The races that I entered then
Were 6.2 in miles
And mostly run in Central Park;
We differed in our styles.

I still get out and walk each day,
My racing days behind me,
And early morning, by the river,
That is where you’ll find me.

Yet he sits mostly on a bench,
His walker at the ready,
The river feeling far away;
His gait is too unsteady.

I used to marvel at the thought
Of hundred mile races,
But seeing where we’re both at now,
I’d not be trading places.

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Hannah Borke May 21, 2026 at 6:47 AM Enjoyed this. But your story demonstrates that non-career sports has little long-term value.

Yann Rolland May 20, 2026 at 3:58 PM so delicious poetry, i love central park, le poumon de la ville

Anne-Lise Andresen May 20, 2026 at 12:21 PM - No running for me, but love to walk every day regardless of the season... doesn't count miles... but counts experiences :) - Bob, has had many through his miles, Ilene :) - Lovely poem :) - hugs