Pheidippides is off my back;
I feel like an addict who’s shaken crack.
Now I can slow and smell the roses
Instead of abusing my quads and my toeses.
But I don’t intend to come to a stop;
I’d grow old and fat and finally drop.
Enjoy the hills and climb the trails,
See what the rest of my life entails.
No need to always run with the hares,
I’ll just slip along now, more like the snails.
For 64 years I ran and competed;
Now that I’ve run my final race,
It’s time to pursue a more leisurely pace.
Categories: Poet's Corner