I don't recall ever posting a poem about running but this one I read in the weekly newsletter from parkrunUK and it seemed to get a clear message over about the experience of running.
Hear it is,a poem by Helen Mort, comments welcome:
| Hello David | 2 June 2016 |
welcome to the newsletter
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| In this week’s newsletter the competition is on with Alzheimer’s Research UK, Intersport is offering parkrunners 20% off, Fitbit has tips for overcoming adversity, parkrun is launching in Sweden, we meet a very special volunteer, and Helen Mort shares a parkrun poem. |
Stopwatch
a poem for parkrun
The countdown starts in Endcliffe Park.
I’m off, I’m racing my old self again,
amazed at how she got this far.
The first kilometres are Calow rain,
my endless loop around the football pitch,
aged 12, with stumpy legs and borrowed shoes,
each lungful of the sky a stolen wish.
My watch holds every second left to lose.
The middle section is a downhill chase,
freewheeling, trying to catch the present up.
I’m staring at her back. I never see her face.
She wears a vest the colour of good luck
and stays three steps ahead. I catch her breath,
the hammer of her heart, but never pass
and can’t get close enough to guess
how long she’ll carry on, how fast.
The last kilometre is every distance
that I’m yet to run, the future, sleek in shorts,
its knees and elbows driving piston-quick.
Chasing tomorrow’s miles, I’m caught -
I’m running out of path and trees and time.
The finish is a line etched on the ground,
the crowd cheer with a voice that could be mine.
I finish neck-and-neck with all I’ve found.
Helen Mort
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