I love entering a race with no chance of winning—
so easy to keep a smile on my face, to remember
I am doing this for the love of it, easy to focus
on the color of the sky, the cold scent of snow,
the thrill of the arms as they pump and release.
It’s the same reason I love going to high school plays
or middle school volleyball games or eating potato chips.
There’s a thrill, of course, in the best—but oh, the joy
of wearing a soft sweatshirt on a Saturday, of finding yourself
on the tenth kilometer of fifteen, grateful for five more k.