I collect miles like medals
and wear them around my neck,
showing that I am tougher than the pavement.
That I can outrun my exhaustion.
That I am more fierce than the burn that overtakes my muscles around mile 3.
I run like a knife through the thickest fogs
and the dampest mornings
so that I can take it easy
the rest of the weekend
knowing I’ve already been there and back. Start to finish.
I cross my start lines with grace
and sprint over my finish lines with determination
that this one will be better than my last one.
That this time out, that this route, that this run
will be an improvement.
I run because I can.
I run for me.