And to Think That I Saw It on My Long Run

When I leave for my long run my wife always tells me,
“Honey, keep your eyelids up and see what you can see.”
But when I return all agog, with a great post for my blog,
She sternly tells me, “Your eyesight’s too keen, like a wary guard dog.”
“Stop telling such outlandish tales. Stop turning minnows into whales.”

Now what can I blog about when I get home today?
All the way to the lake and all the way back,
I’ve looked and I’ve looked and I’ve kept careful track.
But all that I’ve noticed, while running ahead,
Was a woman with a bottle balanced high on her head.

That’s nothing to tell of, that’s far too dull,
Just a woman with a water bottle perched on her skull.

That can’t be my blog post, that’ll never do,
Instead of just one bottle, I’ll say it was two!
And that is a blog post that can’t be outdone,
When I say that it happened on my long, slow run.

Yes two bottles is fine, but it’s still kinda’ mellow,
She’ll be joggling instead, with seven balls that are yellow.
And the story would really be easier to embrace,
If we were joggling together at a blistering pace.
Yes, two speedy jogglers is nothing to shun,
When I say that it happened on my long, slow run.

But a spectacle like this deserves a large crowd,
I’ll add some more runners and fans that are loud,
A cyclist to salute us as he passes us by,
But not any old cyclist, it’s that Lance Armstrong guy,
And who is that swimming out in the lake?
It’s Mike Phelps himself, creating a wake.

The crowds push and they elbow to see all the drama,
VIPs have shown up, including McCain and Obama!
“You should be President,” they cheered from the side,
And that thought alone made me want to go hide.

Now that is a story that’s second to none,
When I say that I saw it on my long, slow run.

But now I don’t know, it doesn’t seem right,
We’d pass the crowd in a blur and be fast out of sight.
They’ll need a jumbotron screen with ultra slow-mo,
That stands 4 stories high and gives a good show.
Watch nationwide coverage on NBC,
But not until primetime so more people can see.

Yes, that makes a story that’s really not bad!

But it still could be better.

Suppose that I add...

... the Goodyear blimp circling the skies,
A bicycle chase team with plenty of supplies,
A police escort in front to make the path clear,
A truck with our times displayed on the rear,
A pace team to guide us around every bend...
No time for more, we’re close to the end.

I swung ‘round the corner and dashed through the gate,
I ran up the steps and I felt simply GREAT!

FOR I HAD A BLOG POST THAT COULDN’T BE OUTDONE!

AND TO THINK THAT I SAW IT ON MY LONG, SLOW RUN!

But my wife said quite calmly, when I returned from my jogging,

“Now what did you see? Was there anything worth blogging?”

Oh, where to begin? I HAD SO MUCH TO SHARE!

But my wife looked at me sharply with a skeptical glare.

She raised up an eyebrow and quietly said,
“Was there nothing to look at... no tales you can spread?
Is there no story to be woven, not even a thread?”

“Nothing,” I said, my face turning beet red,
“But a woman with a bottle perched high on her head.”


With apologies to Dr. Seuss.