Notes About The Poem
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The Long Run
My run begins with a gentle jog along a mountain trail~
my breath is easy, my legs are loose,
and the world opens up ahead.
But when the trail tilts upward,
my lungs begin to burn, my heart starts to thud~
yet something in me refuses to stop.
Some days the trail is smooth,
sunlight dappling the ground
like applause.
Other days it’s mud,
tangled roots,
and the sharp surprise of a stone
I never saw coming.
But I keep running,
because the body remembers
what the mind forgets~
that momentum is its own kind of grace.
Somewhere along the way
I discover running isn't about the number of miles,
my speed, or crossing finish lines~
it's about the miracle of moving forward.
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