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Kathy is a runner and a poet or a poet and a runner. An anthology of her running poems is sold by Reading Roadrunners to raise money for charity so only the briefest of snippets appears here. The Luton Marathon The joy of a loiter in Luton A great town, that I'm not disputin' But the novelty pales In December's cold gales By the third lap I'm losing my footing The Hill that is Better than Sex Start off slowly, easy running Keep the rhythm, do not stop Mind and body, working in unison Pace myself, I'll reach the top The hill knows where its peak is Work with it, don't rush, don't fight Together we will reach our climax Together we'll be there alright Legs and arms working like pistons Heart beating strongly, lungs gasping for air Raise my eyes to the high horizon My heart, my body will peak up there Harder, harder, harder I push Near to the top, I'm coming, I scream I throw myself at the peak of the hill Body bent double and fighting to breathe Slowly I rise, survey my surroundings I look around and the world stands still Yes, yes, yes, I shout, yes I've run it I love you for ever, Streatley Hill! Coach Intruction: Recovery jog down to the bottom and repeat until exhaustion. From 'Running (and other contact sports)' - an anthology by Kathy Tytler Running Order On 6th July 2011 Ed & Phil organised a special running event as part of the Ledbury Poetry Festival. Kathy Tytler composed two sonnets with a running theme. These were separated into two line pieces and handed out to runners who then carried them on a run along one of the Poets Paths around the village of Dymock. The lines were collect in using the order that the runners finished (hence the project's name 'Running Order') and two new sonnets created with the mixed-up lines and read out in the local pub, the Beauchamp Arms. Below is one of the new sonnets:
When my feet cross the ground with hardly a touch, In search of the elusive runner’s high We run in morning fog, In pouring rain, under leaden sky Where once green field becomes a bog.
When the sun lights my way, but a cool breeze does blow, When the path runs ahead firm and clear, And the perfume on honeysuckle floats from the hedgerow, Then I feel that perfection is near.
At the end of our run, whether pleasure or pain, We all know we’ll be back here again and again. |
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