Marathon
On occasion I ran the marathon
when I was younger and all my powers
of recuperation were much greater than
they are now. I remember in the hours
after the run was over how every bone
and joint in my body aged and ached.
Remembered, too, the moment in the zone
when strides were easy, and breath unslaked,
and moments around the twentieth mile,
when the calf muscle failed and the joints pained,
and FINISHING!, when will, pride and denial
overcame the weakness that flesh ordained.
Hate to admit, now, the twentieth mile,
when virtues replaced by philosopher's smile.
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