Despite being an English major in college, I am lousy at writing verse. But I felt inspired to write a poem to my dear friend Molly, so here goes. I hope you can relate, even as you cringe at the composition.
We met through carpool.
While one of us idled in the van,
we’d chat about our day, our kids, our school.
You’d look at me like I was crazy;
You said you could never wake up so early to run.
Your excuses even included being too lazy.
But you started asking questions, about distance and pace.
You told me about running at lunch.
Before I knew it, you’d signed up for a race.
One Monday, you beamed and you glowed:
You’d run your first half-marathon,
And all weekend you’d sported the medal you were owed.
Our non-stop chatting made our kids late for class.
Conversation flowed, we shared plenty of laughs.
All our idling made us burn up tanks of gas.
Our friendship moved from the sidewalk and van
To the pavement, as we began to run side by side.
You said you couldn’t keep up; I said, “Yes, you can.”
You started getting up bright and early.
You got all the gear, including a Garmin.
You even wore a skirt, lookin’ kinda girly.
I taught you to fuel, to take in your GU,
To ditch your unders, and go commando.
No topic was off-limits: We even talk poo.
Your insight is unparalleled: You see life so clearly.
Your one-liners give our miles extra zing.
On the long runs you can’t join me, I miss you dearly.
In the Race for the Roses 13.1, you wanted to break 2:00,
Listening to same playlist, together we ran.
Finally at the end, you pushed, I blew.
Then came the big kahuna, the motherlode,
The marathon. My foot said no to 26.2,
But I jumped in for 6 to urge you, to goad.
Your eyes sparkled, as did your wit.
Even after 18 miles, you still were crackin' jokes.
You were fresh, and you never wanted to quit.
Now you support me, as I head for Boston.
You show me the way to sanity.
Without you, I’d be lost.