We don’t tell beginners
But the first mile
Is what every subsequent mile will be
One foot in front of the other
Like time itself
Marked by the entropy
Of your days
First your shoes
Then your knees or hips
Or back
When you began
Trusting that it would get easier
The faith of the long-distance runner
Rewarded by hours and miles
Alone
With the same tired doubts
You harbored in your youth
Saturating your flickering consciousness
Until necessity subsumes
The fibers of—
It’s okay, call it
Being
What you are
Doing
Like the secret no one
Needed to tell
Your muscles
Exhale foot strike foot strike foot strike inhale
Foot strike foot strike exhale
It does get easier
—and harder
This running
For the joy of running
A million miles from here
If you’re lucky
You’ll be right where you are now