Miles Beneath My Feet
In my youth I ran many miles,
by Christopher Buchheit
My feet carried me over multitudes of hills and mountains,
Always savoring that last long mile;
The pride of achieving what every runner dreams
The accolades, the cheers that are craved so dearly.
Still today I run.
though my feet stand still
I travel through valleys
over rough terrain, through hail and sleet alike,
Though I run toward a finish I can not see,
toward cheers I can no longer hear.
Where once I ran on familiar ground,
Over the same paths many times over,
Today I run through deserts I have never seen before,
On roads I am likely to never cross again.