I’m a rebel, and I run.
I don’t do long,
or race pace,
or tempo.
I avoid the hills,
and rarely do I engage in dreaded intervals.
But I’m really good at easy.
Give me easy and I go,
Yes, I just go.
I’m a rebel, but I run.
Just the same,
I run.
I’m not into the gear,
and I don’t run with friends,
or groups,
or even one other person.
Because I’m a rebel
but I run,
just the same,
like you,
I run.
I do like to race though,
and not tell anyone.
Because I’m a rebel, you know.
I don’t carry fuel,
or water, or salt.
Well, sometimes I do.
Because I want to be better,
for some reason, it’s true.
I care about it.
And the only way to run
better, faster, longer,
is to care.
But still I rebel,
because I don’t like it,
this running thing I do.
And I don’t like what comes with it
I rebel against it,
I don’t want to
but then again, I do.
So, I do it.
46 years old now
And I run, I just run,
Alone,
in the rain, in the sun.
And here’s a small confession:
there are no training sessions,
And I don’t wear compression.
And I don’t need to recover
from anything, ever.
I just do what works,
and what works
is simple,
I simply run.
And when I do
My tracker is always wrong
Time, pace, distance
But I know how long
Believe me, I know
I know what my body can do
because I’m strong
And I know where it has been
this body
And where it’s going now, too
And what it will take,
repeatedly,
for me
to get there.
I rebel, I do, but I run.
And sometimes I run on the wrong side of the road,
at the wrong time of day
in the wrong clothes
the wrong way
Everything about it is wrong
And I don’t look like a runner,
I don’t
but I am a runner
just the same.
I’m a rebel, but I run.
Just the same as you
I run
And the only thing I’ve ever won
Is my own, whole, self.
I get her back
every time I’m done.
*And that’s good enough for me.
Yes.
?