Worn soles slap against wet pavement,
breath syncs with the city’s pulse.
One, two, three, four—
chasing the ghost of euphoria.
The right knee throbs, Achilles tightens,
discomfort a familiar companion.
By mile two, warmth seeps in,
muscles uncoil, the mind clears.
No music, no voices—
just rain, the rhythm of effort,
pain folding into something else,
something closer to joy.
Past mile six, an idiot’s grin—
legs numb, heart light,
as if this could go on forever.
But life calls. The road winds down.
A slow walk, sudden and strange.
Collapsed on the driveway, rain-kissed, grinning,
stealing a quiet victory
while the world still sleeps.
The Truth About Tigers 