Miles of Grit

Before the dawn, I rise and ride,
Legs like stone, lungs stretched wide.
Gravel roads become my prayer,
Spinning through pain, gasping air.

Unbound waits—one hundred miles,
Through Kansas dust and brutal trials.
Each climb I face, each breath I take,
Is built on choices others break.

I’ve trained through storms, through aching bone,
Pushed past the doubt when I felt alone.
Skipped birthdays, dinners, bedtime songs—
Chasing this dream for far too long.

But guilt, it rides my back some days,
When pedals steal the time that stays.
My family waits while I chase more,
Yet still they meet me at the door.

And then—the race.
Heat and grit beneath the sky,
Mile after mile, I wonder why.
Cramped legs scream, the wind cuts deep,
I think of every night I lost sleep.

But near the end—I see them there,
My son,  my love, their arms in air.
Cheering loud with muddy pride,
As tears break loose I’ve tried to hide.

This isn’t just about the ride.
It’s every moment I almost cried.
It’s every hill, each stubborn scar,
And all the hearts who brought me far.

The finish line—just gravel and paint,
But it holds the weight of what I ain’t:
A quitter. A shadow. A halfway flame—
No. I burned through every claim.

Proud not just of what I did,
But of the ones who let me live
This wild, relentless, grinding dream—
Together strong. A human team.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.