Saturday morn; I topple out,
Bleary eyed, stumbling about,
'It's half past eight', the radio shouts,
I'm running late, darn it!
The starter gives a quizzical stare,
And points out that I'm standing there,
Without my running kit.
You can still run and make amends,
For running here does not depend,
On having all your gear'.
Just go out there and run your best,
But you're doing it in your pants and vest',
And he clipped me round the ear!
Feeling rather incomplete,
At least I've slippers on my feet,
To protect them from the ground.
All of them, except for me,
I'm still fiddling with my mp3,
I didn't hear a sound.
I try to float with style and flair,
My slippers flapping in the air,
I'm feeling such a loon.
Shuffling as is customary,
For a man who's almost 93,
I hope to catch him soon.
I'm in the zone; I've picked up pace,
Then thwack - a blow straight to my face,
I fall in disarray.
Dented head with pain inside,
Why do trees always decide,
To get right in my way?
Wiped the debris from my clothes,
Two lost teeth and bloodied nose,
I'm flapping once again.
Onto grass, that final flight,
Dodging dogs mess left and right,
I'm finishing like a train.
Was it quick? I can't be sure,
But my underclothes were revealing more,
Than just my personal best!
So, next week at your parkrun place,
Wear a smile upon your face,
Though kit and shoes must always replace,
Your slippers, pants and vest.
Other blogs by me:
How parkruns and bumblebees can lead to half marathon success
Eastbourne parkrun 24 March 2012
Eastbourne parkrun course description: a runner's eye view
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