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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