‘Twas the night before the 50k, when all through the house
All the anxieties were stirring, the heart fluttered most.
All the race gear was laid out by the bedside with care
In hopes that over-preparation would help just a hair.
The runners were nestled, restlessly stirring in their beds
While visions of DNF’s floated through their heads.
I, in a fit of agitation, and my spouse at a safe distance
Had settled into bed at 7, per my insistence.
The alarm was set 6 hours too early
For rushing in the morning would certainly make me surly.
Stomachs rumbled with threats of GI issues
And I quickly arose to pack more tissues.
For a trail race could lead to some awkward bathroom trips
They say, ‘never trust a fart,’ but you can’t always help what slips.
At last the final thought left the exhausted runner’s head
And race day quickly came with a mix of joy and dread.
After 18 weeks of preparation and training,
It’s just 7.75×4, how’s that for some reframing?