13.1
Draft 1The blaring alarm awakens my adrenaline
As this race carries itself from my dreams to the track Training my body for endless hours Running incalculable miles on a distinctive road Preparing for the chance to step on the trail and finish As the clock ticks closer to start time I feel it rising Anticipation, excitement, fear, all bursting from my chest As I move to the starting line, the goal is in sight Prepared or not, the mass of people begin their trek Prepared or not, I cross the starting line and begin mine The start is always a test of the mind’s control over the body Whether I can push myself to see past the six-mile marker As it approaches, I let my growing will defeat my aching feet As the trail grows thinner and the crowd finally splits I start my journey toward the finish line The crowds cheering on the side of the roads Help ease the growing mental exhaustion and leg pain I keep my head busy with thoughts of soon ending There, I see the road turn ahead en route to the finish But am deceived by a sign labeled “Mile 10” As I begin to slow my pace to rest my feet My legs come close to falling apart Proving the only option to be leaving the pain on the road behind And put my body on autopilot until I see the checkered line I’ve crossed the track and only .75 to go My friends line up against the finish to cheer While so close, the pain shooting down my body is so sharp They run with me to the finish line and cheer for me as I cross Proving that the body may be weak, but nothing can defeat the mind Draft 2The alarm blares, awakening my adrenaline.
Carrying this race from my dreams to the track. Training for endless hours, Running incalculable miles on a distinctive road, Preparing to step on the trail and finish. As the clock ticks closer to the start, I feel it rising Anticipation, excitement, fear, all bursting from my chest. Moving to the starting line, the goal becomes visible. Prepared or not, the gun fires and feet start moving. Prepared or not, my feet follow. The start is always a test of the mind’s control over the body Whether I can push myself to see past the six-mile marker As it approaches, I let my growing will defeat my aching feet As the trail grows thinner and the crowd finally splits I start my journey toward the finish line The crowds cheer from the side of the roads, As mental exhaustion and leg pain take way Busying my brain of soon ending I see the road turn ahead en route to the finish But am deceived by a sign labeled “Mile 10” As I begin to slow my pace to rest my feet My legs come close to collapsing Proving the sole option to be, pass the pain And test my body ‘till the checkered line While so close to completion, the pain becomes sharp Striding through splints and strains The final stretch, I take my last step Proving the weak flesh cannot defeat the mind. Draft 3A blaring alarm awakens my anxious mind.
Reality sets in with the tick of the clock Flashing 5:45 across its face. It’s race day. The feet that will tackle this feat Have stepped on paths of all sorts. The sweltering summer sun, the frigid winter wind And today, the crisp air of February at dawn. Worn asics take their place at the start And a man holds the start gun up high Fearful, determined eyes fix their gaze and POP. The race has begun. The battle commences between mind and body As body begins the battle strong Mind must never surrender to body Though body’s influence is mighty. A clock up ahead and a small white sign “Mile 7” soon comes in sight Half way there. Keep going. And my chest passes through this mile mark The end is near, for the balloons are now in sight Garnet and gold whisking with the wind Mind is prevailing, but has ways to go While body continues its fierce battle. Mind must be sharp, for the finish is here Less than one mile, and body is fading. The sweat’s dried up, but out come tears As my chest crosses the finish line, conquering my fears. Draft 4The start gun is fired, and mind has jolted to life
While feet have awaken and begun their great stride. Still adjusting to pace, but distracted by faces around While still keeping pace, and moving swiftly past the crowd. The fans dwindle down, time to find a new muse Trying to keep up, hiding the fact that you’re new. Still thinking about the fact, that halfway is near Still moving on the track, disregarding the heat. The mind is still wandering, drawing closer to its limit But the body keeps giving, focusing on the task specific Halfway is drawing near, and now the banner is in sight Keep kicking, keep pushing, don’t let them hear you sigh. We’ve turned around, and now its on to the end If you keep moving, you’ll reach the starting point again. The mind has reached its limit, its really had enough The feet remain strong and keep carrying through the tough. But now, the mind begins to crawl under the skin Where body is tempted, and takes its best not to give in So close, yet so far, walking won’t be so bad Until the body stumbles, with dizziness in the head Tempting the body, to finally give up But the feet keep kicking and the arms swiftly pump Mind has been defeated and converted, no time to quit Quickly, swiftly, energetically moving quick Last mile, the fans are reappearing Don’t stop, keep on, the feet see the sight they’ve been dreaming. The finish line. Where the athlete proves that the body can defeat the mind. |
ERN In February 2013, I ran my first half marathon. The experience I had of training for months in advance, and pushing myself to run 13.1 miles was an experience that, as cheesy as it sounds, changed my life. This was the first poem I wrote for this class, because this event had such a significant impact on my life. When writing the first draft of this poem, I pretty much just word vomited all over the page. I used five line stanzas, and almost no poetic devices. While I don’t like this draft, it was helpful in getting my thoughts on the page and kind of sorting out my emotions.
My main goal for the second draft was to cut down on the line lengths. In order to do so, I took out unnecessary adjectives. While the line length in this second draft decreased significantly, I still cringed as I read through this poem. I knew there were too many details in this poem that readers would probably not care for. For example, one line reads “Whether I can push myself to see past the six mile marker”. While I know its important to be specific, I think this draft is way too specific. The images make sense to me, but I was beginning to wonder if the readers could guess what a “six-mile marker” looked like? Additionally, sound-wise, this draft did not sound good at all. I knew for draft three, I had to incorporate more poetic devices like sound sense, and sensory imagery. Writing this third draft was pretty tough. I kept asking myself What message do I want to get across in writing this poem? I had no idea what the answer was. I did know that there was just too much going on in these first two drafts. I was trying to write about my thoughts on the race, the actual race, a peek at my training, and my feelings after the race all in one poem. I also realized that I was trying to make a poem into a narrative, as opposed to a narrative into a poem. I knew the story, now I just needed to weed out the less important details and figure out what I wanted to tell my readers. This third draft was probably my least favorite. It just felt like more word vomit, and I wondered if my audience could even tell this poem was about a half marathon. What should my next step be? I thought about it, and decided that I should probably focus on one “snapshot” or moment that happened during my half marathon. But before I got a chance to crank out that draft, I thought about writing a draft exploring the battle between mind and body. With that thought, I started my fourth draft. I decided to experiment with thirteen couplets, and a closing single line to represent 13.1. The first line of the couplets would be representing the “mind” and the second one would be representing the “body”, and “mind” and “body” would be characters in this poem. I found this poem to be very introspective. I was not a fan of this draft either. Even as I was writing it, lines like line 7 “Still thinking about the fact, that halfway is near” made me want to vomit. I also failed at trying to slant rhyme the ends of the couplets. But I was stuck in a hole, and not sure how to get myself out of it. I realized this was similar to the sonnet I wrote “The Infinite Race”, but I still really wanted a poem just about my half marathon experience. So I decided to go with a certain snapshot I had from the half marathon, just like I had mentioned before. During the 10th mile, I had an epiphany, so I decided to base this final draft on that moment. Just the thoughts, sights, sounds, smells, and surroundings gave me a scene to describe. I’ve found that I thrive the most in poetry when I am describing something. Writing this poem was interesting, because at first I thought I’d start off with just a simple form, no stanzas, etc. But I actually created stanzas containing three lines of varied lengths. I liked this form. Out of all the drafts of this poem I wrote, this fifth draft has to be my favorite, because its very visually oriented. I like the idea of the first draft, and I definitely needed to write out the entire story. But as far as poetry goes, this draft has a more appealing form, better descriptions, and more accurate language. Draft 5The frigid cold at 7:00 am
Suspends water in the air And fog spreads freely across the course. The gunshot of the starter sounds And hearts jump as feet jolt forward. The pack of runners rushing passed the start. As each foot, steps on the misty asphalt Striding closer to the finish. Each breath becomes heavier. The sun finally rises Dismissing the fog from this event And the heat absorbs our runners’ dripping sweat. A white cardboard sign buried in the grass Reads “Mile 7”, a sign for the runners to Turn back and move their feet closer to their goal. The sun makes its presence known And embraces each runner with its scorching heat But each runner pants, awaiting the sun’s release. A large “FINISH” banner crawls up the trail Escorted by garnet and gold balloons Dancing and swaying in the short-lived breeze. As runners get closer to the end Feet are willing to bury the pain and propel forward Mind is fixated on the sight of the word “FINISH” And tears stream down the eyes of champion As their chest dives forward and finishes the race. |