Author: Mallory Bockelman


When I race, I’m MetaMal.

Meta meaning more, above, and beyond

The race begins easy.

Less sleep, more thoughts and energy.

Beginning slowly but always building

Becoming a force of ideas never ending


This race is not your Saturday morning 5k.

Lasts far more than just one day

One, two, three, four, five AM

Racing, speeding neurons to brain stem


Planning, plotting, all the best things about me

Funny how everything comes together



Racing again. Focus. Movement.

When I move you move.

Move to the location where you feel the most.


How the birds migrate toward the sun

This is exactly how I’ll run


This is good. No. This is great.

Possible until proven impossible.

Smart until proven smarter.

Okay now write it down, let me get a pen.

Wait where was I going with this again?


Now the race is too big, too fast.

Racing continues despite the torture.

Ferocious, frantic agony

The pain, the fear, life all out of order.


A finish line not met with applause or medals.

Race ending down long hallways in grippy socks

Under lock and key until the racing stops.

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