Met on a hillside, to my surprise,
a rival appeared at my left side.
His stride long, glory of ’74,
two dueling foes, forged by the same sword.
The vigor of youth races with the sun.
I tried to rob my match of his fun,
but the path veered to his advantage,
the final kick—more than I could manage.
His lengthening stride low in the sun,
shadow’s running ahead—the race’s won;
our brief reunion sank into dusk,
till he pops up again—rising from the dust.
—•0•—
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 1:08 AM UTC
Met on a hillside, to my surprise,
a rival appeared at my left side.
His stride long, glory of ’74,
two dueling foes, forged by the same sword.
The vigor of youth races with the sun.
I tried to rob my match of his fun,
but the path veered to his advantage,
the final kick—more than I could manage.
His lengthening stride low in the sun,
shadow’s running ahead—the race’s won;
our brief reunion sank into dusk,
till he pops up again—rising from the dust.
—•0•—
As a member of the Vallejo Running Club, I enjoyed my last hurrah as a runner with good form.
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