written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Thursday 16 June 2016

Run - only if I am being chased.

I don't run.  Not for pleasure anyway. I like to walk to the very idea of jogging about on a hard pavement disturbs my equilibrium.  I enjoy walking. Walking is great.

I trained as a dancer.  I have danced on many of the finest ballroom floors in the Northern hemisphere. Granted the floors that I trained on were not always sprung but they were mostly made of  polished wood, with the exception of Matlock Bath where huge stone slabs were laid over the pool.  The stiffness in our legs, after a day competing all day on a stone floor, was unbelievable.  No I am not fond of doing anything strenuous on a hard floor. Bad for the ankles, the knees, the hips and the neck.

I am not opposed to running in general.  My daughter did a bit of track running when she gave up gymnastics but didn't stick with it for long.  I think after floor, beam, bars and vault, hurdling was a bit tame. My niece Olivia is a champion pole-vaulter and that needs a great burst of speed.  My eldest brother played club rugby union but as a family we tend not to distance run. My ex-husband's family  run marathons.  I only run if I have to.

Remember the scene in Jurassic Park when the gorgeous blonde has hurt her leg?  She can see the door of the enclosure, where she will be safe but there is  at least one ravenous velociraptor somewhere nearby.  She summons all her strength and shouts "Run!"  Well that is when I would run. Probably the only time I would really run.

That said, I admire people who run. I am an armchair athlete and will spend many happy hours this Summer watching the Rio Olympics. I love the sprints, the relays, even the distance events. I will be cheering our athletes on. I know what it is like to train hard to reach your goals. As a poet - I can imagine...





Visualisation

This is it.
This is the moment.
This is what all the hard work was about.
This is the early starts pounding the block.
This is the start of my race with the clock.
This is the sweat and the blisters and tears.
This is moment I’ve trained for - for years.

 Breath.

This is my journey.
My life.
My desire.
The race to the finish.
The test to the wire.
This is my challenge.
The fight to the end.
The power in my muscles.
My strength through the bend.

Breath.

This is it.
The silence.
Twenty seconds
From the sound of the gun.
The race of my life will be won.

Run!

Thanks for reading. Adele

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