I’m a marathoner and I’m better than you,
Live my whole life for 26.2.
Gonna rationalize, mythologize,
Anything to look good in your eyes.
It’s not about sanity,
Only vanity.
It’s all you need — the spaghetti feed.
Your PR’s the reason your toenails bleed.
Diet lit galore, then go to war.
Team in Training platoon, more miles than here to the moon.
Finish, period. Excuses? Myriad.
Don’t overthink, don’t overdrink.
Snapped tendons quicker than you can blink.
Hurt and then bask, while the rest of you mortals,
Sit on your ass.
The sofa: the reward, for your 4:24.
Fast-forward a month, taste’s back in your molars.
So’s the easy 5-miler behind the twin stroller.
That evening, a GNC run in the SUV bought new,
White oval sticker from the country of 26.2.
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