These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Determination

Those final miles in bitter cold
created numbing thoughts of "Why?
I've gone this far. The quest so bold
remains unreached as hopes deny."

Now spewing guts upon the trail,
quite euphemistically of truth.
A marathon one cannot bail
without great shame on strongest youth.

To "hit the wall" at 20 miles
one has to "gut it up" to run.
The body feels like many piles
of offal, that aren't awfully fun.

The plundered soles of pounding feet,
that scream at me with every step
will sue support throughout next week
forgiveness from me then be kept.

To nearly freeze at 93
degrees in pride each running, labored stride,
I finished all. 'Twas really me,
while on the cot in one space blanket hide.

That freezing, raining race took guts,
but finishing felt good, but painful.
The labored legs in running ruts
were mush, determination gainful.

I finished one the next year, too,
but walked and ran in greater heat.
So far that's all that I can do,
but memories often with me meet.

line count: 28
poetry form: quatrains of iambic tetrameter & pentameter lines
prompt number: 24 (March 24th, 2026)

by Jay O’Toole
on March 25th, 2026