A Runner’s Christmas (or…why the free world frowns on January marathons)

‘Twas the week before Christmas in my warm domicile,
and things were far calmer than they’d been in a while.

The finals were printed and stapled just so,
In hopes that the students would actually show.

The parties were planned and the sitters were scheduled,
Excepting of course those the kids had last cudgeled.

And I in my running shoes and not-a-deer hat,
Was nowhere to be seen under the pre-Christmas fat.

When out on the road there arose such a clatter,
That I knew that my plans for the day had just shattered.

The snow plows were clearing and salting the road,
And I saw in a flash that the day would not hold,

A run or a stretch or a lifting of weights-
A snow day declared in the great Nutmeg State!

For the children a boon, for me not so much.
I had finals and papers and meetings and such.

And the grades that were due the very next day,
I had learned the hard way could not be delayed!

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a party invitation taped to my mirror.

What’s this? I said to myself with a smile,
I haven’t been out without kids in a while.

I went to the closet and got out the heels,
And readied myself for some exquisite meals.

More rapid than eagles the courses they came,
And I gleefully shouted, and called them by name;

“The cheeses! The chocolate! The wine and good cheer!
The gluten! The sugar! The vodka and beer!

To the table! To the bar! To the Tylenol bottle!”
I threw myself into the season full throttle.

In no time at all this health loving vegan,
Was from the gilded chandelier swingin’.

I promptly sought out all the old vices;
Truffles, cigars, and large pizza slices.

The mornings after my nights as a glutton,
Were the very same mornings I hit the snooze button.

With the training in shambles and the view looking bleak,
I realized I hadn’t run in a week!

And then, in a post from a friend with a plan,
I learned that the Big Day would soon be at hand.

Eighteen weeks till the day (actually seventeen now),
‘til my triumph. ‘til the day I would take down the clown.

That night I dreamed of a man in a wig,
With flowers in his hair and the occasional twig.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That bespoke of too many nights with the telly.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;

He sprang up Heartbreak like a reindeer in flight,
And I woke from my dream in a great state of fright.

With my hopes for the finish up the chimney like smoke,
I’ve redoubled my efforts to beat this large bloke.

My eyes – how they twinkle! My dimples how merry!
My knees with their groaning and my hips feeling weary!

The plan reassembled with one less long run,
So little time left until that starting gun.

The problem of course-well, we’re not yet there,
There’s more than one party left in the year.

So my plans for the takedown already beckon,
But the clown has to wait until January the second.

Merry Christmas everyone!

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