P.R.

So I woke up this morning
the rain was coming down.
The idea of fifteen miles
did make me wanna frown.

I thought just for one second,
"Fuck it - I will not go."
But then a bigger voice piped up,
"You're not gonna melt, you know."

And so I donned my sneakers,
and took off on my run.
And soon enough i found my pace.
I didn't miss the sun.

I went through several phases:
from "Doing great!" to PAIN.
Running is so mental -
A workout for the brain.

Around the seventh mile,
my stomach stirred a bit.
And by the time I hit mile twelve
I totally had to shit!

And when I thought I couldn't
hold that poop inside my body,
fate stepped in and saved my life
in the form of a Port-A-Potty.

I ducked on in and emptied out.
I felt so light and free!
The rest of the miles were easy as pie,
and I sailed through the final three.

Through this book I've been a-skimmin'
(Hal's the author's name)
he talks of "personal records"
being more valuable than fame

If that's the case, I'm lucky
for on this one morning's run
I achieved TWO "PR's"
and two is better than one.

Not only did I cover
more miles than I had never,
I also crapped in the middle of nowhere -
I'll remember THAT forever.