It’s not about having fun,
I’m not sure it ever was.

Trying to **** in air
With every other labored step
Is not effortless.

Negative thoughts creep
Through my head, slowing
My pace even more.

Is this the fourth time
I’ve held down my breakfast, or
The fifth?

I hear the cheers and support of
The crowd!...for other runners.
I get the blank stares and an occasional
Polite clap or two.

If only my **** pride
Would let me just stop and
Walk away without a second thought.

But, I started this,
The least I can do is finish.

Maybe next time.