RUNNING

There’s something special in this world only found by some,

And that something is the thrill of the run,

And when you say you love it and people ask why,

Well, it’s that feeling you get, like you’re starting to fly,

Sunsets and heat and ice cold rain,

Blazing fire and burning pain,

When you get to the end and give it all that you’ve got,

Passing them one by one as you rise to the top,

When all of your energy is spent,

All the pain, the promises, the commitment,

It’s when you race out beneath the changing sky,

And when you’ve reached the point you’re certain you’ll die,

It’s when at each race you lash out and strike,

And when people ask you what it’s like:

If running was just a noise it would be drums sounding,

And if it was just one feeling it would be your heart pounding,

Half of the run is all in your head,

And if running was a color it would all be red,

When you get to the end of the race,

Sometimes it doesn’t even matter if you’re not first place,

It matters if you broke through when you reached the wall,

It matters if you gave it your all,

It matters if you pushed past that last hill,

It matters if you ran off of will,

It matters if you pushed off the stress,

So you could give it your all and do your best,

It’s more than just going in forwards motion,

Sometimes nearly all of the run is off of emotion,

It matters if you leave your heart on that racetrack,

It matters if you never look back,

It matters if you gave more than that other runner would,

It matters if you did all that you could

WOLFCALLS

 

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