Sore - just another running metaphor

Your words blurred  
as I hit play on a    
Frieda McFadden    
plot twister    
and slip my    
phone in my pocket.  
   
My lips part in a full-teeth-grimace  
when I grab my ankle for  
a stretch    
against the    
screaming protest  
from my abs and    
shoulders and    
legs and…  
   
Fuck.  
 
I ache.  
Everywhere.  
   
Athletes start to loose    
muscle tone after three  
weeks of inactivity  
   
Three weeks.  
   
I was knocked out  
for months.  
   
And it’s time to get it back.    
   
Yesterday my spotter  
left me gasping on a bench  
until I was too fatigued  
to make a comment    
about her crotch.  
So today I hobble through    
a morning recovery run  
to make sure I can    
get out of a chair later.  
   
The science of it is:  
When you work out hard  
you need a lighter workout  
to warm and stretch    
the muscle and    
release lactic acid  
   
When you run a marathon,  
you do an easy 5k    
the next day    
to feel better  
   
It’s like digging at a loose tooth,  
the more pain now  
the faster the relief  
   
I spent my time    
and sweat    
and tears    
and agony    
building something good,  
investing in something  
I believed in  
and after mere months  
it’s degraded    
   
I can see the squish of my triceps,  
and the give in calves that    
used to make men beg  
   
Muscle slacks as soon as you stop  
And rebuilding is goddamn murder  
   
You have to choose to rebuild  
You have to say fuck the pain  
grit your teeth and    
prove you remain  
   
Elite  
   
Because there is no running time for the average person’s marathon  
   
Average people don’t run marathons  
   
But I do.  
   
I. Fucking. Do.  
   
I walk most of the miles today  
and wait to feel better.  
   
I don’t look at the screen    
when I get home  
because    
I don’t want to see  
your shit unblur.    
   
I can see the slight slack  
in the way you reach for me  
and the little bit of give  
when I trace your lips with mine  
 
It all falls to shit as    
soon as you stop trying    
And rebuilding is goddamn murder  
   
Goddamn murder.  
   
I spent my time    
and sweat    
and tears    
and agony    
building something good,  
investing in something  
I believed in  
….  
(us)  
…..  
   
 
You have to choose to rebuild  
You have to say fuck the pain  
grit your teeth and    
prove you remain  
   
Elite  
   
Average people don’t  
touch the sun in your arms,    
and breath cold  
night down your neck  
in universes filled  
with monsters who  
fear  
us  
   
But I do.  
   
I. Fucking. Do.  
   
It takes such a short    
bit of neglect to let it all go,  
and    
rebuilding is    
goddamn    
murder  
   
I wonder if I have the    
stamina to    
rebuild  
again  
   
because yesterday left me sore  
   
And  
fuck  
   
I ache  
   
   
everywhere