[Editor’s Note: This Community Voices piece is a poem by lifelong runner, Angie Funtanilla.]
The winds have died down and
Apparently so have I.
A bit rattled I was yesterday,
What — with the frenetically whipping winds
You’d be too.
I ran anyway,
It didn’t matter,
It never does.
I mean the weather, of course.
Windy hot humid Sad,
Rainy cold Happy.
It can all come as it may,
And it does.
Year after year, no matter where
I find myself,
I lace up the kicks. That’s what I do.
Not for a should or a prize or to adhere to some schedule.
Unless you can call my heart’s desire a schedule.
That’s when I go then, regardless.