Description: its not much of a poem. its more of my thoughts... running.. why do i do it? because i'm scared to get fat? because i know i can run for a very long time and thats the only talent i can show off? i don't know...
running, i hate it and love it, just the way you hate parents and love them.
so basicaly,, its more like a deep thought from me for Track and Field, and i can nooooot wait for Cross Country, i consider that being easy. Track and Field is good, but when your coaches don't even know how to coach, yeah.. thats a problem.. i'm just pissed off right now.
& you only wanted to be the best. Nothing more. Just keep your head up till your race has found an end. Nothing more. To not become last? You hear people screaming your name. "and don't 4get in the end. sprint fast"
The feeling of coming in the top places. The feeling of you pushing yourself to the limit where you feel pain. The medals you hang on your wall.... The pressure, the burden....self-discipline... wondering when will you finally fall?
The thought of only running two laps; being the anchor... please don't let it be my fault that we're losing. Minutes pass till you pass the finish line. Falling to your knees, tears in your eyes.
The thought of only running 4 laps, thinking ' i can run this mile less then 6 minutes. i can' and you run, but deliberation of knowing, 'they are better' and this time you're only out of breath from trying to pass her.
Only wanted to be the best? nothing more?
or what else did i want?
Minutes feel more like hours now. Waiting for my last race. Only 8 laps. come on, 'i've ran more than 4 miles before. this should be easy' but.... i have to realize, i am not the best
Those thoughts... racing through my head. 'i've ran 3 miles in 21 minutes b4, 2 miles in 13 minutes, 1 mile in 6:10.'