I had a nickname when I was in school

That was brought up in competition:

I was “Gameface”

It was a name that I earned for a face that I made

When I exerted myself. It was a look of pure rage

And determined zeal, that contorted my face

And made me look like Zuul

Himself couldn’t hunt me down.

The secret of the face was a drive to succeed.

It was an obsession of mine when we would compete

That often times bordered on insane need.

And for this one reason alone my face would contort.

But as much as I wanted to win all that I owned

I knew the face brought with it some disgrace

And so I resorted to putting away the Gameface.

Then, over the years, I began to understand

That the absurdity was one thing, but on the other hand

The drive was what kept me going.

That drive to succeed, and to never be caught slowing:

What would I do without it when the voices around me

Began to demand that I continue to move competitively.

Keep that boy running, running all day long.

And though I know it’s crazy, I obey.

Even though I know that it might be wrong

I do what I must; I do what they say.

And when the time comes to run again, I smile

and say “How many miles?”

It doesn’t matter that my life is a mess.

It doesn’t matter that I just want to rest.

The person I want but can never have, what difference is she?

The person I love but have come to never want to see

what difference to me now?

Now I must run. Run. Run. Run.

Keep going. Keep going.

Pick those feet up.

Faster! Faster!

When you can’t run, you keep going at a jog;

When you can’t jog, you keep going at a walk;

When you feel you can’t walk any more, you pick your feet up and run again.

You will run with your head high with pride;

You will jog with the pain kept firmly inside;

You will walk with all these things that you must hide.

Though you ache and though you want to sit,

you will keep walking; you will not quit.

All this pain from your head to your toes

all the pain that never slows,

all the pain inside that grows,

all the pain you can’t express

that puts your mettle to the test;

With all of this you will keep running.

I know it hurts, my friend, I know it too well,

this pain that you struggle to quell

But you never fell and you won’t start now.

Now you must keep running.

Running till you faint.

Faint with hunger and fatigue.

Fatigue that eats at you and drives you mad.

Mad at the world and all that it had done.

Done with the pace that has been set.

Set to throw in the towel at a moment’s notice.

Notice how your vision tunnels.

Tunnels to freedom that you can never take.

At the end of the road, there is only pain:

The pain in your muscles from exertion.

But this you wonder at the end: what gain

have I from resisting desertion?

Muscles built that I won’t much need?

The will to go on and never concede?

Or maybe something less tangible, a seed

of something greater that you cannot name

even as you hobble about as if you were lame.

Perhaps it is something you will never know.

But if I venture a guess I would say

that the victory here is over your greatest foe:

Ego.