long distance runners

with your
hands deep into
the pockets
of your shorts,
you shiver
bare legged
near
the finish line
of the half
marathon race,
watching
with flushed
cheeks as the
runners stagger
in. they are of
all sizes and
ages, their
numbered and named
bibs, green
and billowing
in the wind
upon their
heaving chests.
you used to run,
but you're
older now.
wiser, with bad
knees. you
don't miss it.
your races are
different now.