A Runner’s Strength

I’m strong when I am pushing back the road
beneath my feet, along my chosen course.
My legs engage by trying to explode
along the muscles channeling their force.
I’m strong.  I feel the metal in my veins;
my heart’s a forge, my pulse a tempered beat,
where iron is refined and what remains
is strength of will to match unyielding heat.
I’m strong enough to run until I feel
the surge of one last lap before I’m done,
that makes me draw my breath like sharpened steel
and run the lap, and then another one.
And though I doubt there’s any race too long,
I have no doubts at all that I am strong.

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