I put the chilled plastic bottle of recovery drink on the wooden shelf
And began warm ups
My right ankle taped and bandaged for support
running in place
Jumping jacks
Jumping jacks with deep kneed bend landings
180 degre hops
Hamstring stretches
More jumping
puddle jumps
Jumping to runners stretch
endless routines
and so humid that the water bottle sweated a puddle of cold water
pooling and dripping off the shelf
The humidity must be over 90%
As sweat pours off of me and drips from my brow into my eyes
Stinging as I blot them with the sleeve of my shirt; also soaked
Leg muscles aching and burning
Heart feeling like it's ready to burst
But it feels so good somehow
And that recovery drink tastes like Heaven
It will be worth it eventually, I tell myself
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem