the london marathon

This is true, and not true

i swung for it. i swung for the fences. didn’t make it over. i’m hung up, hung up where it hurt. did i give up too quickly. did i listen to my body warning. now did i. my body is in so much pain. wondering politely, what the fuck. i tried to quit. i did. i swear. i couldn’t get out. disrespectfully i pushed past my limits. this taught me i have limits. don’t want to die in vain. i need to care for myself, not my blind bald ambition. i’m happiest when i’m just doing it. when it’s not fixed, just happening. i don’t particularly enjoy others getting invested in my personal goals. getting tethered to them. i’d rather be afforded the space to pursue something without naming an aim. God please free me from that ambition. i can’t bear sharing it. i want it all to myself. i am a hypocrite. am i proud of myself. i didn’t quit. i crossed the line. i met myself in the trenches, it’s a place i don’t recommend anyone should visit.