Saturday morning she awakens with a sudden jolt
It is 4 a.m. Her calves lock with charlie horses
Her hips feel frozen, her back is in spasm
She has trouble rolling over
She lets out a groan
She needs to get to hot yoga without a doubt
Another ten-miler is in store for tomorrow
Arriving, she embraces the heat
Each inversion and twist is met at first with pain
Then release and relief
The poses feel good
But she forgoes wheel and frog
Saturday supper: pasta, water and wine
She slumbers at an early hour
Sunday morning 6 a.m.
Arising stiff but not too sore
Shall she go?
She needs the long run without a doubt
Pain simmers beneath the skin
A natural feeling for the distanced runner
Each mile is ticked off without notice
Until the last
Her legs announce themselves
in all their glorious grief
She finishes and bends over with welcome relief