The Inescapable Race

[Granty]

On your blocks
They said to the face
Of another entrant
In the inescapable race

He was prepared for
The race to come
By the grounding of
Every lap he’d ever swum

Nearing forty
Struggling to keep pace
That mattered little
He was compelled to race

Time once a friend
Had moved away
The starter got ready
To go or stay

So he leapt
Eyes straight ahead
Sadly farewelling
Lie ins in bed

He started fast
Then gasped for air
Thought of quitting
But didn’t dare

One girl followed
By another
Just one more
Might deliver a brother

He bent his back
Till it wouldn’t bend
Knowing he was far
From the end

Lap after lap
Reach end, turn
Go all the way
And return

Day after day
Stoke fire, burn
A restless sleep
And return

He could have been a doctor
Holder of the health solution
A scientist
Researching evolution

An environmentalist
Fighting pollution
Or the leader of a
Revolution

Could have been all that
But he’s not
Seem all he does
Is gather gut rot

With each stroke
Limbs feel more rubbery
There must be more
Than this drudgery

Twenty years till
The race is won
Shitting on a commode
Will be what’s to come

Another day and dollar
Angry as a mad dog
Wished for a gun
To shoot that groundhog

Life’s about choices
And he did choose
One look at the kids
Knows he didn’t lose

The race is hard
A life’s major work
There is no other way
You have to earn each perk

By fifty he’ll slow
But he’ll keep flailing
The end is closer
No point in bailing

Some stopped or stalled
But he chose to swim
Kicks his legs faster
He’s going to win

Big ideas of youth
Blunted by fatigue
Thinks of his dad
And joined his league

By six each day
Dad was up and gone
Till the day his son left
And from when the son was born

Must have liked early starts
Later on when asked
He answered bluntly
That it was a pain in the arse

Like father like son
They like to say
But the son knows
That will be the day

Because there is no doubt
That Dad suffered pain
But he maintained his stroke
And never did complain

Dad’s not built like a tank
But his will was strong
He could have swum the channel
And made it seem short not long

For forty-nine weeks
And six to six he was away
Then drove three days straight
For our idyllic holidays

He’s retired now and happy
Like he didn’t do anything
To know him is to feel
It’s just reward for his triumphant swim