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Damnable perseverance in my march Dam to Dam;
such a simple equation defines who I am.
Thirty-seven more days, to prepare five more weeks,
ain’t no way on this green Earth I can reach my peak.

Twenty kilometers, near twelve-and-one-half miles,
distance old man’s running along with juveniles.
Race is four times farther than been running of late,
yardstick of my progress? is measuring how feet ache.

Today something different, I went for a trail run,
on advice of buddy who swore it’s lots of fun.
There was lots of swearing as I labored for breath,
I kept quoting Yoda last half of march from death.

Yoda’s mantra, “Do or do not, there is no try,”
in my head repeated as pain intensified.
Umstead Park April morn, along Loblolly Trail,
I quickly discovered that I’m both weak and frail.

Fatigued and exhausted long before I was done,
I am glad it’s over, foray into trail run.
But I’ve four more weekends to prepare for my race
and Umstead proving ground is favorite pain filled place.

I am not a quitter, I’m known to persevere;
event preparing for? I’ll run with family dear.
If you see a grimace plastered upon my face
know love keeps me moving as I eke out my pace.