On Sunday
My muscles were pounded
Until they crackled and spluttered
And sprung back into tight coils
And at mile 12, one of them went pop.

My fat thighs
Rubbed a raw arc of pain
Notional until I stopped running,
Slicing me with every step.

My bruised toenails
And tight shoulders
And heavy eyelids
Are my finisher’s medals
Hanging from every branch of my body.