Ode to Our Biggest Fans

You know who you are. . . You're the people who put up with our running insanity.  You're the people who are always there to drop us off and pick us up from races.  You're the people who make it possible to do what we love to do--Run!  This ode is for YOU!


Many of you seek worship at synagogue, mosque, church, or temple
But we runners put our faith in one who is more monumental
Most weary we approach the finish line in the distance
In a crumpled heap, we drop into your arms for assistance

You must be a saint to put up with all our insanity
Cater to our runner’s whims and athletic vanity
Rarely do you complain about our nine o’clock slumber
Nor in the morning as you help pin on our race number

You love us despite our quirks and complaints
Put up with unending pasta and dietary constraints
Our many sins are chafed nipples, black toenails, and snot rockets
Pursuing a passion that leaves us with creaky joints and sockets

Why you don’t get rid of us, we’ll never know
In our taper madness, with your wisdom you lie low
The laundry pile is stinky, sweaty, and muddy
Salt-stained singlets, compression socks a little bloody

Three pairs of running shoes always sit by the door
Running magazines piled waist-high on the floor
Family vacation built around yet another big race
Dragged along to the expo, you accept it with grace

We runners would be lost without you by our side
Your cheers and support always fill us with pride
Please accept my humble offer of a sweaty loving embrace
And did I mention my dear, next week I have another race

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