An ode to my tired legs

I'm out of breath
didn't do the customary warm-up
just started running
braked suddenly to let the path clear
and then kept on

I know I should have paused to stop and stare
let some breeze ruffle my hair
debated whether to take the dirt track
I know I lack the stamina
so why don't I rest my shoes?

I ran into a wall of smoke
sputtered through the haze
carried on, like a mule
who knows only the straight way
and wandered further on

they say they know where I go
the usual bend, the safest route
running's the only way they say
the fore-st plays
the cure for the deadness that lies under

My chest hurts, I cannot sleep
my hair is white, I cannot weep
the marathon idea was mine
blinkered vision is all i have
oh, must not forget the smelly laundry stack

my knees will give away soon
as the last of my will will be written
through all the curves there will come
the cliff or the ditch
and then I'll step over.