My Country of Running exists on no map,
Nor holds to any written constitution.
Yet her citizens are many,
And there is room enough aplenty,
For any seeking identity in her domain.
It’s an ages-old union that gathers no moss,
Nor anoints any member as sovereign.
Yet front runners emerge,
As the pack is slowly purged,
And candidates are proclaimed by their merit.
The force to oppose,
as exertions are mounted in earnest.
The currency is pace,
And the time that it takes,
Turning start lines to finishes through purpose.
Thus, we cover the globe,
As we constantly probe,
The limits of human performance.
But we also take heed,
Of those who don’t need,
To race to join this community of seekers.
For sport is not alone,
Among the causes that are known,
For folks pledging allegiance,
To this movement.
Because in the midst of its throes,
As far as that goes,
We discover in both meaning and function,
What’s best in this world,
As the miles unfurl,
With one step just following upon another.
Indeed, the benefits of this affinity,
Often manifest in tranquility,
As stillness is what’s detected,
While in rhythm.
And though a seeming contradiction,
To affirm an addiction,
Here’s one we’d never reject or eschew.
For in this union of motion,
We also arrive at the notion,
That together is how best to cut through,
What separates and impedes,
All the peoples and creeds,
That we look upon as,
Different than our own.
But which are in fact much the same,
Only differing in name,
Thus binding us more tightly than we knew.
And while endocannabinoids don’t last,
There’s no doubt that they cast,
A spell that impels daily dosing.
Wherein the doing alone,
Becomes the means to atone
For the transgressions,
We reveal while at rest.
Thus taking strides over time,
We find the Tao turns sublime,
‘Till running becomes both vision,