‘Twas The Night Before Race Day

‘Twas the night before race day, when all thro’ the house,
Not a person was stirring, not even my spouse;
My singlet was hung by the dresser with care
In the hopes that my marathon soon would be there.

My children were nestled all cozy in their beds,
While visions of cheering dad, danced in their heads.
And my friend in his dwelling and I in my own,
Had just texted each other about getting in the zone.

When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I ran like Meb K.,
Tore open the shutters and looked through the bay.

The full moon’s face resting on mountain peaks high
Gave illusion of a lighthouse through the dark sky.
When, what were my wondering eyes to behold,
But sleek new watches and eight shoes of woven gold.

With a pale svelte guy, unlike other codgers,
I knew in an instant it must be Bill Rodgers.
More zip than Usain, these flats did understand,
When he whistled and shouted and called them by brand:

“Run Hoka, Run Asics! Run, Puma and Nike!
Come, Reebok! Come, ‘didas! Come New Bal’ and Saucony!
To the top of heartbreak! All through marathon fall!
Now pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up all!”

As cool dust that before the running masses fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, arise to the sky.
So up to the house-top the gold shoes they flew,
With a bright embers trail and Bill Rodgers too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard overhead,
The stomping and bouncing of each little tread.
As I drew in my face, and was turning around
Down the chimney Bill Rodgers came with a bound.

He had blue running shorts and white singlet top
And 8 pairs of gold shoes that didn’t e’er stop.
A bundle of watches he had in a clear case
He looked like a peddler, before a marathon race.

Bill’s eyes – how they glistened, His dimples, quite profound!
His cheeks were so chiseled, His nose smooth all around.
His golden locks on his head moved with the fall breeze,
And the smile ‘bove his jaw truly put you at ease.

White gloves on his hands for running in the cold;
And big woolen hat with a pom-pom was bold.
He seemed as fit as ever, with a very smooth gait,
He looked like he could run like in ’78.

A distance running legend, in my own dwelling,
I thought I was dreaming – or under some spell-thing.
A wink of his eye and thumbs up on his hand,
Soon gave me to know that tonight would be grand.

He motioned me o’er to these lively gold shoes,
And politely asked me which shoes I would choose.
Made my selection of one magical pair,
Which then appeared on my feet, but Bill was not there…

He had sprung to the road, a stride with great meaning,
His golden shoes followed, with magic quite teeming.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he ran out of sight.
“Happy Racing to all, and to all a good-night!”

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