Training Day 42 — A Run Across Carnegie Bridge

A run across Carnegie Bridge,
I see for miles.
The north
rock tow­ers,
Lake Erie
dis­tance. Underfoot
swans tack the
Cuyahoga snow crust.

Art deco, over­head
eyes swad­dling Cleveland,
steel carved in stone on
steel un­der stone.
is light.

There is si­lence
even in my stride. The pace
a great muf­fler:
my girl,
her slow smile,
that dead-end job like
dish duty.



wires in my calves
tighten un­strung
rewind. That heart
—slowly faster.
The south is
a whole county
of peo­ple; none run­ning.

   Amen I say.

Still Sunday, a pil­grim
east­ward, mantra of
foot in front
of foot
body bends to
shape the street
eyes on graf­fiti, backs
of bill­boards,
con­crete con­cen­trate
mouths for­get words
feet for­get miles

   This tang of street salt;
   this win­ter air.


I took a rather ex­tended hia­tus from run­ning due to the crum­mi­ness of the weather last week and the ex­tended crum­mi­ness of the side­walks and road-edges even af­ter the weather crapped out. Yesterday I woke up to snow, but by midafter­noon it had mostly melted and I did 7.5 miles in 70 min­utes, which is just a lit­tle faster pace than what I want to main­tain for the marathon. I re­ally got into the zone yes­ter­day and time seemed ir­rel­e­vant along with every­thing else. So I drafted a poem about it last evening.

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