The pounding on the asphalt is all you can hear as your body takes a chance of letting out your fears

the pain in your legs, a dull ache as the exaustion begins to make them shake

but still pressing on the quiet pounds create their own song 

The chords of victory and notes of sacrifice calm the runner until her pain can be calmed by ice. 

When all is done, the song is sung, where do you stand? 

On a throne of victories or a pile of pain and dung?