#ann peel

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Poem: Race Walking Soliloquy

You might think I cut an odd figure

walking at the speed of a tram or wild turkey

across squares in the park or along the highway.

I’ve had my share of truckers honk,

housewives offer me rides in their station wagons

as squirrels scurry off bewildered.

I’ve walked across towns, cities,

whole island countries. I’ve kept my form

through blinding heat, pelting rain, and the rare

meteor shower. I’ve held myself back to deal

with the ground in front when it would have been

easy to run. I approach the future

as if it expects the soles of my feet.

There are no admonishments to walking

through museums, basilicas, or in the event of fire.

Walking is not the slower way to go from

Point A to Point B:

it’s the exact impression of

Point A to Point B.

It is the art of getting somewhere with as little

fanfare as possible to be the one who

achieves the singular view.

You only get the full spread of the feast

when you’re the first to the buffet.

***

For Ann Peel (former World Champion Race Walker and my running partner).

Check out other sports poems by Priscila Uppal inspired by the London 2012 summer Olympic Games.