In ’86 I ran a three-twenty-whatevs
I had chicken legs and hardly any breasts
I was a truly lovely sight
Sounds attractive, right?
At least I wasn’t PFDOS*
Flash forward twenty-seven years or more
(Yes, in fact, my first marathon was run when I was four!)
It’s still an appealing mystery
In spite of all my history
With a distance that I suck at and mildly abhor
Twenty-six point two memories from coasts to coasts
Miles, medals, whines, one billion bourbon toasts
Though the race is a tad daunting
And the memories can be haunting
Past marathon spirits are mostly friendly ghosts.
*Pretty fucking digustingly out of shape. (Copyright, 2011, MikeyMike.)