The Women's Winner

I watched the New York Marathon. A woman held the lead; And everyone expected her To win the race, indeed. Another racer tagged behind But halfway through, dropped back And then the coast was clear – To win, the leader was on track. The race goes on for miles – Twenty-six, to be exact; When she hit twenty-three, we saw A view the leader lacked. Another runner’d closed the gap And soon had passed her by, With energy and confidence In limitless supply. The one who’d had the lead at first, Ran fast as she would dare, Yet in the end she lost, A tortoise beaten by the hare. I feel so bad for number two, Whose spirits had to sag When she saw slip away What she was sure was in the bag. But life is filled with elements Of let-downs and surprise. It’s foolish to trust certainty Though it might tantalize.