I started running recently. My husband is an avid runner. He is doing a bit of training with the Padawan, who has now appointed himself my personal trainer. As if I need one. You don’t get this stunning physique from sitting at the computer writing and eating MoonPies. Okay, maybe you do.
So the Padawan and I run to school each morning, which is saying something. When Bill Cosby wrote his bit about his dad claiming to walk to school and it was uphill both ways, he had our neighborhood in mind. Whichever direction you choose, there’s nowhere to go but up. But I do it because it makes the kid happy, and it makes me tired, requiring me to fortify myself with an extra MoonPie. What? I said I was running, not adopting an entirely new lifestyle.
I know lots of writers who draw inspiration from their runs, mulling over chapters, blog posts, short stories as they exercise. I am not one to let such an opportunity pass me by, so here you go. The poem inspired by my morning run.
Beautiful morning! Wow!
Cool breeze. Fall is here.
Padawan is so fast.
I’ll never be that fast.
If he makes fun of my speed again,
I will pound him into the ground.
I need running shoes.
These Chacos just aren’t doing the job.
Are we there yet?
Good Lord, this hill is long.
My legs hurt. I need to pee.
Why did I drink all that water this morning?
Goodbye Padawan! Have a good day!
I will never do this again.
Why are those people staring at me?
I hate them. All of them.
If that car honks its horn at me,
I will flatten their tire.
How long is this hill?
I think I may die!
No, seriously! Someone call 9-1-1.
I am not going to make it!
Catching my breath.
Never moving another step.
But I still need to pee.
Over in those bushes?
No, the neighbors are watching
After the last time.
I see the house!
It has never looked more beautiful.