FOR THE LOVE OF RUNNING poems by joan joesting 1978 FOR THE LOVE OF RUNNING The love of running Gave me running feet Running mouth Running typewriter Running poems Teaching me the main lesson of the marathon I have the discipline to do anything. ADVICE TO A FEMALE RUNNER Honor your body For it is the only one you will ever have. The wind came up And I counted the muscles of my body Work-outs are lonely sweaty islands Miss a day and a lesser male will beat you In the race tomorrow. SPRING FLORIDA FOG Morning Run in the spring fog It holds me Protecting me from all the evils of obscene remarks From sons of dogs of the human species. Only the familiar barking of the fenced dogs Tell me I am on usual roads Flick! The floor of the street looks different A different street sign Must retrace, retrack, rerun to the familiar; The rising sun insists on being a single headlight Pushed down by the fog which has to be a giant whale I am running more and more in my own world. HEAVY HAIR NIGHT AFTER THE BOSTON MARATHON I was too slow to go Lonely night Thinking of my long absent husband My heavy hair drinking more the night moisture So it becomes even heavier A massed living thing to sleep with to partly relieve the emptiness of my bed and life Morning came with bird noise waking me up And I ran into the cool sunrise wondering who the first woman was in the Boston Marathon Three major TV networks didn't say the night before I asked morning runners A female runner told me Gayle Barron. My steps made a superwoman bounding like a racing frog One of us southern women There's hope for even old southern belles like me And I had a good eight mile run in 70 minutes A good morning run erases the previous night's pain. AFTER THE RAIN Cool rain-washed morning I ran into the egg white clouds pounding the spring flower smells Till the gray-navy curtain came down and I thought It was autumn A friend saw me running and said I had a smile on my face She said, "Most runners frown." Running is not a part of my life It is my life. YEAR AROUND RUNNING WITH BAD TECHNIQUE I'm a spring person A tip toe runner Eating with my eyes The sugar candied first buds of spring. I am a summer person An ordinary toe runner Feeling with my toes The sponginess of the warm sea sand. I'm a fall person A flat footed runner Hearing the gossip of the dried fall leaves As I run in them. I am a winter person A heel runner Smacking through the screaming snow Smelling the cleanness of winter. AT ELLIE'S IN ERIE PA. Like a recalcitrant horse who doesn't want to leave the barn I take my body out Always finding woods to run Leaping to embrace a clearing Chasing a groundhog Legs bulged for the uphill climbs Danced downhill Obedient feet carried me on snapping white rocks and snake roots Through the mud and baby creek decorating my shoes Ankle popped out but I kept on racing the summer day in the northern woods I foraged finding three kinds of apples I came back to Ellie Smiling all over. ANOTHER MORNING RUN Last evening a mocking bird tried a lullaby As I ran by Darkness came up behind me And folded me into his/her cool arms Shoving away the heat So I could sleep with the windows locked and the doors barricaded Protecting me from the man I had married to protect me from other men. The morning flowing light Gave me protecting ghosts in mist uniforms Who accompanied me on my run. The sun forgot to get up from the buildings As I waved to the University Police as usual I cannot understand the increased sensitivity of my body Resulting from the heat or a by-product of increased distance running Running with greater cosmic closeness With feet forgetting to touch the ground. I read about astral projection Will my body just race away? What will happen if my husband beats my body without my mind in it? PAINFUL RUN The Monday morning run was routinely spring beautiful But even running Every cell of my body was just plain pain I was starving for tender fruit Of the emotional and physical varieties. The morning dew was a soft grass handkerchief But it could not wipe my tears away. TRUE CONFESSIONS When I first mentioned my pending long run to my Dad Asking him if he would mail me my shoes along the way He said, "Buy your own shoes." When my husband made the threatening phone calls I asked my Dad to help me He said, "You have police in Tampa, call them." He doesn't know it takes the police thirty minutes to come By then I could be dead. My Dad and I don't communicate very well It will be a long time before I see him again. A FINGER TO YOU, GREAT MOTHER GODDESS I read in Runner's World that running with a virus-caused fever could result in death A finger to you, Great Mother Goddess For sending me the muscle-pulled leg so that I wouldn't run with a week's weak fever You knew that I would run but the worthless leg kept me in bed A finger to you, Great Mother Goddess For you letting the strength slip back on cat-like tip-toes Sporadic aches prod me to heal and grow again A finger to you, Great Mother Goddess For saving me again. A RUNNING LUNCH Escape from work on fleeing feet I run to the river where I can't get lost Feet flowing through the flowers of the river park Trees very pregnant with blossoms Giving birth to purple flowers Underneath the trees is purple snow Someone's car has made black tracks in Flower smells surround me, shoving me along While I am heavy with love for losers Losers are oleander flowers Sweet and soft Till you eat the poisonous flowers and die A dish of oleander soup for all losing lovers. MARATHON MEMORIES At the starting line, carnival-like preparations for the day Just like any distance race But I wonder if I am in reality Knowing that I will be permanently changed in a few hours. Shadows make black footprints on the road While the lake looks uphill, hanging in there And I don't mind the uphill runs in the shade But somebody teach me how to run downhill. Telephone lines are scalloped trim Rimming the road Tree trunks are lovers wrapped around each other Mare grazing in the pasture Her sleeping foal looks like a fluffy rug Till its lint brush tail flicked up at a fly. The pigs in the pasture run from us. Running by the lake, the wind switches my legs Where I once was with my lover Memories pass over my jelly legs. At an intersection, the guitar player sings, "North Carolina on my mind." I am Helen Reddy, "I am woman hear me strong." Like the shock of the cold water in the face The cheers "You are the first woman." Men running behind me say, "If we closed our eyes we'd believe the cheering was for us." By the 16 mile marker My legs are so sore They don't love me anymore They say, "Listen to your body." Except during the last six miles of a marathon. The finish line seems to run on ahead of me Like a runner I can't catch up with Like a vicious carrot on a stick The applause injects Ham Me with energy And I cross HUGS, HUGS, HUGS from wonderful friends. PEOPLE I MEET RUNNING AROUND I was jogging and he rode his bicycle beside me Giggling, gabbing along Laughing at our joint silly comments He pointed out new views on my old back street jogging course Seven years he had worked on an excellent poem When I run off a poor poem per day. Parents, backgrounds, old marriage pages from our already written books of life He noted my favorite word was four letters, beginning with "F" FREE Home together we sat watching the short shaving of the moon become more defined In its ride up the clouds A star poked itself out His touch on my shoulders was the gentleness of my fantasies He called me exquisite inside and out And I have never been more happy with both myself and a man. THE WILD THING Who can understand the wild thing Clinging to the crying tree Running over mountains Long hair held like a wedding veil by the ghosts who sing. Who can understand the wild thing Balletting from one man to another Screaming to the judge that she won't do this, again Not telling her parent, anything. Who can understand the wild thing Complaining about the summer's oven burn when it was caused by too much blond skin sun Riding the wilds of nature, not missing a dead spider carried away by ants Always observed by buzzards, ready to lick her bones on the wind. LUNCH RUN Running to my attorney's office to sign my will to disinherit my alcoholic husband The next client Was dressed in the same suit my husband had worn at our wedding I ran away to the river two mile cross-country course Where I had previously run my fastest miles Needing good memories to hold me The lord made a mistake when he told Abraham his children would be as numerous as the stars He should have told him as numerous as the wild flowers I run through The flowers sprayed perfume Heaving living beings. I dreamed that during the coming night there came A lover's touch as gentle as a lily's pedal A feather writing love notes on my back While my long hair grew more into a heavy gentle beast That must be braided before running. WHY I RUN IN THE FLORIDA MORNING For forty years, I have preferred to sleep late Now Mornings are always pastel colored Sprayed by fluffy mists Flitting through the age-grayed trees ahead of me The sugar perfume of the orange blossoms Hits me like running into a scented featherbed The hanging moss silently sings To the birds who are busy being happy I am so content to be running Running is poetry in motion Poetry is the photograph of the mind If I didn't get my daily running in, I'd serve time. RUNNING AWAY At 5 am, I had to run away From the threatening phone calls of my husband My body welcomed the morning I was in control of the peopleless, dogless, semi-lighted world I was invited to conduct the birds' chorus My swollen legs began their slow jog Gaining confidence on the hills Gradually, I was gliding, in complete control of my striving body harrassment, tody And the sun rose to wish me a good morning. NIGHT RUNNING When a daylight runner runs into night she gets another world Rick-racking on simple side streets Avoiding pollution and eye-jabbing car headlights My feet are road eaters of smooth roads. The golf course is painted by sprinkler ghosts Bending their bodies to the ground Legs enjoy the pulling of the hills Sand traps suck my feet. I fly into the navy sky to the giddy stars Different seasons are the shadows Camouflaging the road back home. RUNNING TWO YEARS AGO My legs imitate the rhythms of my heart Learning the joy of putting my feet down most effectively Rain drops in the eye Green pines bounce by Mists emanate from the black asphalt roads Ghosts of leading suffragists Leading me on Rainbow says hello And I know that I can climb And jog down its other side. A WOMAN RUNNER'S ATTEMPT AT WRITING A LOVE POEM Waking up in your arms My sun baked hair blending into the dark hairs of your chest Your arms are as soothing as good run The jam on the wheat bread I baked yesterday We separate for the day. In the evening You Knock on our door, calling my name Sunset smile, like bookmarks on the water I ran beside Place-holding the magic between us.