the night before finals . . .
by Dan Runnells
'Twas the night before Finals, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a grouse;
The rankings were studied by Molvar with care,
In hopes that Track Talk revelers would be keenly aware.
The runners were nestled all snug in their beds,
Visions of Footlocker medals danced in their heads;
And mama in her'kerchef, and I with my whistle,
Had just settled down in our tall, stately castle.
When out at the starting line there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my perch to see what was the matter;
Away to the course the racers flew out like a flash,
Tearing up the course with a gazelle-like dash.
The numbers on the chest of the jockeying breaux
Gave luster of mid-day to the dust left in-tow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
With a familiar leader, chased by harriers quite near.
Sitting there grinning, so lively and spry,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Dye;
More rapid than eagles his courses they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Keller! now Harper! now Schneider and Ritzen!
On, Coval! on Maddox! on, Padgett and Tristan!
To the top of rise! to the peak of your zone!
Now dash away! dash away! and run all alone!"
And then in a twinkling, I heard the crowd roar,
They were straining to finish, my heart stood to soar;
As I drew out my hands, and was turning to clap,
Around the curve raced Webb and Sage, a third to their back.
As they groaned and they struggled for every last step,
They too lost sight of the gaining youth...closer he crept;
Out of the shadows surged a schoolboy with speed and with power,
Merry 'ol Rohat (or was it Tegenkamp?) took that victory shower!
In the spirit of the holiday season I have
re-written a familiar Christmas verse. Obviously, some of
us have WAY too much time on our hands. Hope you (and
maybe readers?) enjoy! Good luck to
ALL runners! --