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.