Run, They Said.
Run, they said. Run they, said.
But please, oh, please, go fast instead.
Of that trudgy trot you always do
Run like you did before you grew.
Ya know, just run like the wind, and then
Get beat by all of the freshmen
And sophomores, with their legs of fire
Who strides you can’t help but admire.
And juniors far too fast for you
In preppy, laced-up, colored shoes.
And seniors, from your grown-old class
Who say “Good job” as they all pass.
Leaving you to wonder what you did wrong
In a sport where you always seemed to belong.
And as you wish for an inhaler,
It finally hits you: you’re a failure.