As I hobble along at half the speed
That I normally march at.
No idea of the pain in the soles
Of my feet
Or the cramping in my calves
And the ache that my thighs have never felt before.
Reversed, I would have no patience for me,
If I was storming along at my normal speed.
Just as I can't stand the phone zombies
And the "where are we"'s
That can only possibly discover the way
By stopping in the middle of the pavement.
Pain pervades my every move.
But this way I hear more:
I hear more snippets of conversation.
And I see more
Of people, and their lives.
Just as they can't know
That I ran a half marathon yesterday,
I have no idea
What pain they might be in.
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