One of my favorite poems: #2
by Walt Whitman
On a flat road runs the well-train’d runner,
He is lean and sinewy with muscular legs,
He is thinly clothed, he leans forward as he runs,
With lightly closed fists and arms partially rais’d.
Yesterday I was talking with my brother about his triathlon and I remembered this man from mine. In the second mile of my 5k, after my muscles got less wobbly and more rhythmic, this man passed me. He gave me a flick of the wrist that said “Hello, you’re doing a great job, keep going.”
Yes, his wave said all of that.
After he passed me I saw that he was 68 years old (they write that on the back of one calf) and that he was running the Olympic Triathlon (signified on the other calf as an “O”), while I was only doing a Sprint Triathlon. I love this man. He bolstered me up while I ran on a steep hill. He made me want to keep going. I want to grow up to be like this man. He is the one I will always think of when I read “The Runner”.
And am I not lucky that my husband happened to get a picture of this man before I came running in? Yes, so lucky.