I passed the turn and ventured further on
Because my legs denied the older pace.
The spring in which I ran I thought was gone,
Although that didn’t seem to be the case.
The spring had come again as springs will do;
But still the memory of snow was there.
It chased my run, but I was chasing too,
The memories of future springtime air:
The taste of mist that rises from the road;
The smell of newborn leaves within the wood;
The verve that fills my lungs as I explode,
And know that springs to come will be as good.
And faster than the thought I stretched my run
Into another mile toward the sun.
This sonnet is available in my book, “26.2 Sonnets for Runners.”