Apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge,

It is an ancient Runner Hodge,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

“The athletes are all at the line,
And I am supposed to win
The teams are met, the runners set:
May’st hear the merry din.”

He holds him with his skinny hand,
“There was a race,” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, greybeard loon!”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye –
The young athlete stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Runner Hodge hath his will.

The young athlete sat on a stone:
He cannot chose but hear the logic;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Runner Hodgie.

“The miles were large , the course was hard,
Merrily did we start
Around the bend, through the sand,
Around the field house did we dart.

The sun came up upon the left,
Above the trees came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down as many miles ran we.

Higher and higher every day,
The miles we did by noon-“
The Young-Athlete here beat his breast,
For his race would start very soon.

The Young-Athlete he beat his breast.
Yet he cannot flee or dodge:
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Runner Hodge.

“And now the weekly races came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking spikes,
And chased us miles along.

And now there came both mist and snow
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, thigh-high, we ran on by,
As green as emerald.

And though the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Ne’er did our mileage slack we ken –
Our volume was all it should have been.

The race was here, the race was there,
The ?thons were all around:
We never cracked, we hit the track,
Like a finely tuned greyhound!

At length did cross a low-mileage philos?,
Through the years it came;
As if it had been a Demon soul,
We cursed it in Lyd’s name.

They ate the GU we ne’er had eat,
And round and round they flew.
Their miles were weak and times were meek;
A path we did eschew!

Yet a good internet sprung up in recent years;
The low-mileage philosopy did decline,
And every day, young runners’ ears,
Do hark to the Runner Hodge’s line!

In cross or track, or marathon,
Now runners add the miles to train;
While all the splits and times we run,
Come lower once again

“God save thee, ancient Runner Hodge:
From the fiends, that plague thee thus! –
Why look’st thou so?? ?With my website info
I killed the low-mileage foolishness