The Asphalt Assault

It's Saturday morning, a reason we run
The kiss of the wind, the glare of the sun,
With the wave of a hand or the shot of a gun
In an instant, the asphalt assault has begun

Five hundred runners start forming a line
Five hundred reasons so neatly aligned
The mob inches forward two feet at a time
The effort's intense, and the mood is sublime

We know why we do it, we're keenly aware
The asphalt assault, it's a thrill we all share
Breathing smoke out our mouths, there's a chill in the air
We do it like clockwork, a weekly affair

The line stretches longer, our legs start to ache
Our breath becomes labored, our will starts to break
From the front to the back, stretching out like a snake
Exerting, we're hurting.  It's no piece of cake

We battle ourselves, and we battle our foes
And we bask in the gift that our running bestows
The asphalt assault, the adrenaline flows
If the goal's just to finish, or to win by a nose

The finish-line banner creeps slowly in sight
As each person ducks under, emotions ignite
Five hundred victors have weathered the fight
Five hundred winners, and each one outright

It's Saturday evening, the day is rerun
In Five hundred minds, each person has won
From the first to the last one to finish, bar none
Until next time, the asphalt assault is now done