Pre

One of my heroes in life is Steve Prefontaine a famous runner that died in a tragic car accident at age 24, before he even hit his peak in distance running. This bitter sweet tale of a man whose ambittion and devotion surpasses anyone I have ever heard of. A poor trailor park boy who changed the world, and showed his guts to America. Before the time where athletes were paid the"big bucks" if any at all Pre managed to 180 the world of running forever. He trained 24/7, 364, his dedication surpassed anyone in his league. Famous runners came from all over the world just to compete with such a legend. Raised in Oregon, Pre was coached my the infamous Bowerman of Oregon University. Although this legend is far gone thousands of girls and boys, runners and sane people alike look to Pre's courage for the motivation to accomplish what seems impossible.
-"A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more. Nobody is going to win a 5,000 meter race after running an easy 2 miles. Not with me. If I loose forcing the pace all the way, well, at least I can live with myself." Pre

help a sister out..title?!?!?!?

Your a boy because your arms
Don’t have the strength
To cradle my frail body.
Endless nights in the air loom rocking chair,
Where we stared at the fluorescent green numbers on the clock.
Flashing.
Rocking.
Trying to forget
The demonic pounding in my ears.
From the ear infections.
Sick from the cruel assessments,
And harsh standards forced upon us all.

You’re my father because
When you tell me I’m not working hard enough,
I long to show someone the scar tissue you caused.
All I have to offer now are my tears.
I thought you being there was painful,
But you not coming was even worse.
Accepting disappointment is one thing,
Knowing that I disappointed you is the hardest thing.
Like the rock I wish I was for you.
For me.

I wish I were more like a girl because
Then you could see that
My shaking body is anything but pretentious,
And all blood stained shirts
Are from those tears
You so precisely aimed at my chest,
Slightly to the left.

none yet

I took my pride off the lowest shelf that day
And held it in my hand.

Your glance touched mine,
And it melted.

I poured that soft
timid liquid into a locket
That perched on the beat that I dream to,
March to,
And scream to
Over the passion that you always find a way to breach.

My locket broke
And I tied my favorite shoes with it.

You smiled at me,
Told me:
That's all I am
And all I'll ever be.

So I ran
As if you were going to catch me.
I knew I'd never let you.

I smiled back at you,
gave you my shoes,
And asked you
If you'd mind putting them back
On the highest shelf
Of the tiny wooden room
Where I keep the spirit
I'll never let you slay.

Just getting started ..

hmmmmm... my first blog ever. I don't exactly like computers, but this sounds...unique!