The Wall

 After eighteen miles

They say

Begins the real trial.

 

It starts as a profound throb

In the legs

Like a hacksaw to the quads.

 

The miles double, triple in length

And the spirit withers

At the loss of strength.

 

That’s what they say, of course,

Mere mortals

With human limits to their force.

 

Not me, though. Not today.

I’ve given too much, worked too hard

To ever feel that way.

 

My stomach crave food,

And my volcano heart

Pumps fine, not blood.

 

And after all, what’s a tiny wall

To a titan

Ten thousand feet tall?

***

(Minneapolis, MN -- July, 2019)

Another poem about running, this one is a thought I had to help myself power through "the wall" on a long run before my marathon. I like the spirit of the poem, but from a technical standpoint, it's pretty meh.