Running Commentary
I saw him run
out of his gate today,
some words to his wife
before he ran away
Wearing a uniform,
just like any fanatic,
a pair of bottoms
and trainers
and a bobble hat.
Maybe he is scared of getting old
– but it's too late for that,
or maybe he just doesn’t
want to be breathless and fat?
Or perhaps he thinks he can add
a few more minutes to his allotted span;
As if his mortality is measured
in the miles he’s ran?
He runs for the bus, although he can drive,
for I have seen him out and about with his wife,
and he runs to the shops and runs back again,
arms by his side,
carrier bag banging against his shin,
and I wonder where such fanaticism begins?
For he is addicted as much as any smoker,
that much is evident
and there is so much irony in that need
for such a healthy high,
the rush of achievement
that he needs to get by.
As he returns to his gate
he breathes a sigh of contentment
and his satisfaction is almost sensual,
the adrenal surge crashing against the rocks of reason,
reassuring himself that all that running,
past, present and future,
is necessary…but
One day our bodies will rot in the ground;
can we change what is certain
by running around?
Behind these obsessons is often sheer fear - you versed it so well here Kev. An excellent piece of work with narration so well expressed.
It's those endorphins - I've heard that one has a huge surge of them after exercise... I get mine by living on the edge... of my sofa, and watching a cliff hanging ending to a soap opera! A wonderfully crafted poem, that makes my couch potato days seem like a good idea. ;)