It is cold out,

bitter, and the roads are swept in ice,

my shoes are worn,

symmetrical holes slice the price,

much too dirty to see the color,

the bottoms stripped of tread-

somehow I never noticed,

the color all turn dead.

Puffs of white clouds,

escape my lips,

and a dancing little smirk-

from my mouth it drips.

Ready set, I take off,

gliding into falling dusk

heart racing to a beat,

as if to wanderlust.

My feet pound the ground,

leaping slippery patches,

lungs moaning from the raw,

in my throat it catches.

There is no fun in this,

but rather something else,

a mindset to win,

in that my heart is felt.

To seize that victory,

which has taunted me,

ruthlessly, day by day,

a steadfast daring plea.

And pushing further,

through that windy wall,

I know it's not just running:

I'm conquering it all.