Next Verse Please II

In this exercise I'll begin with a simple verse. Everyone is invited to add
their own. Please include the previous verse(s) above your own contribution
as the poem grows. The theme throughout shall be running. Straying somewhat
is allowed so long as we keep the theme in sight and return to it often.
Keep your verses in a relatively simple rhyming format so that the entire
poem, from various contributors, may have continuity.

Now, pay attention, you know who you are. If I start with:

One hundred days my streak has run
Through brook, along trail and in the sun
Fall gives up and winter takes hold
To continue to streak, I must be bold
For with just shoes, I get bloody cold

Please do not suddenly change the structure of prose by contributing
something like:

Cold yet Bold!
Streak, mmm meat
So fine, lets dine.
No swine for mine
More wine!
Need time to find
Someone kind
Boo hoo

That would just be silly and make a follow-up contribution difficult without
hallucinogens.

Also, while a few might be tempted to disrupt the flow the collective poem
with discouraging remarks, consider instead this your chance to be witty and
not have to take the tack of "look at me I'm not wearing any underwear" for
a change.

So, here is the 1st verse:

One hundred days my streak has run
Each day I've chosen rest to shun
Soon I think the day will come
To rest, stay idle in the sun
Today I'll run one hundred and one

Please clip the above verse in to your reply, add your own below and so on.

Surf

P.S. Below is a work Roger and I completed sometime back in the summer. The
New Yorker is still considering it. While it took an unexpected naughty
turn, it is no doubt art. See if you can figure who wrote what:

Quoted message said:

Quoted message said:

Quoted message said:

A runner wakes without alarm
The sky is dark as morning comes
A coffee downed, the shoes are laced
And out the door, a pace near race ....

The rain upon his face it stings
"I'd better return for my Gore-Tex things"
So out the door he tumbles once more
And runs 'cross the path of an ageing [censored]

"Young runner, you look so fine and trim
For 50 bucks, wanna see what lies within?"
"Fcuk off, old [censored], for can't you see
I'm within three seconds of this routes pb"

So on he speeds along trail, over brook,
Never pauses from his lofty mission to look
At the world and the pathos either side of him
He simply glances at his Times GPS with a grin

The numbers look good, his hr is just right
He feel like an bloody powerful antelope in flight
'Til without warning a small pothole appears
And he tumbles to the ground
His eyes filled with tears

Oh woe is me
How can this be
For a runner I was born.
And to be humbled
By a hole
Made by a mole
Seems rather droll

the runner
runs no more
but crawls along the floor
like a snake
dying

Damn and blast, a pox on ye hole
A thousand curses upon the mole
His anger quelled he returns to sorrow
This run is over at least till morrow

But wait, what's this? Determination rings!
Up to his feet quickly springs
I can still make my best PB
And so down the hill he strides with glee

This time he thinks all out he'll go
The trees flash by each side the hill
Quickly down and past the mill
A covered bridge in the distance still

Through the bridge and ready to fly
"Do or do not, there is no try"
Up the trail a runner in sight
Her legs are long, her bottom tight ...

Wait! This doesn't feel quite right.
How can I run,
When between my thighs,
My throbbing manhood waters my eyes?.

That fallen nymph plucks at my heart,
What this! Her legs! They drift apart?
What should I do?
Where should I stare?
She lies, legs akimbo, ass in air.

But I am made of sterner stuff,
And need not the pleasure of a maidens muff.
The ticking clock
It calls me on.
I'll tally no more till my battle is won.

Sprint hard for the final 1k,
Hr hitting one nine three.
Is there any beast on earth,
That's as powerful as me?

Finish glides past on my left,
Now my heart slows in my breast.
Look down,
One hour, twenty seven, eighteen,
Yeah,
Running really is obscene.