Early summer
Late afternoon
Dartmouth runners finishing workout
Golden ball sinking slowly to the ridge line
Shadows yawning across the infield
Then climbing up the stadium stairs one-by-one
Young boy approaching
Prodding the cinders with a barefoot
Testing tentatively
Scratch, scratch, scratch…
Then stepping over the thick concrete rail into the first lane
Lined with white chalk
Pushing off
Crunch, crunch, crunch…
Coming into the turn
Knowing what to do
Having watched the milers… Leaning in
Hugging the rail
Floating
Mind lost in emptiness
Legs springing forward
Effortlessly
Crunching cinder in sync with heartbeats
Running in rhythm
Magically
Thump, thump, thump…
Ahh…young legs…The old man thought wistfully
Then remembering…
In 1968, didn’t Tom Laris run the 10,000
At the Summer Olympics in Mexico City?…
Wasn’t that the time that Tommie Smith and John Carlos
Stood defiantly on the podium looking down at their feet
And punching black-gloved fists o the sky
As the Stars and Stripes rang out…
Yes… he muttered to himself.
The Protest…
The old man thought to himself
The words trailing off
Like white chalk blowing in the wind
Down the inside lane…