Running, you caught my eye with that first fateful race,

Now my free time consists of jogging out the door without much grace.

New vocabulary has entered my brain,

Runcation, splits, and Yassos; they’re all part of the game.

Over the years, race fees take over entire paychecks,

But those weekend PR dreams continue to beck.

Oh running, without you life would not be the same.

No one would shout, “You’re crazy!” while swerving out of my lane.

I wouldn’t have bruised knees from that slip on the ice last week,

and I’d be able to discuss my weekend plans without being called a freak.

Saturday mornings would consist of sleeping in,

Instead of calculating split times that make my head spin.

Laundry wouldn’t pile up in an alarming fashion,

And I’d talk to people about something other than my obsessive passion.

But without running, I’d be more irritable than not,

For that is my therapy, and without I’d surely start to rot.

I’ll keep lacing up as long as my body can,

For running and my happiness go hand-in-hand.

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