An Ode to POCAR (2003)


oh! at 8 am the race will start 

and all those who wish to take part
start off in a sprint,
without even a hint
of the long journey ahead.

the racers all are fast at first
forgetting, with an adrenaline thirst
that glory comes not quickly
but after miles and miles many
slogged through terrain of dread!

by noon a few begin to wonder
if racing was rather a blunder
by night fall the course begins to take a toll
and the unprepared, expecting a stroll
will wish for a nice warm bed.

who will finish, only some
return is failure, the looks glum
into the night a few continue
despite the steep and snowy venue
on and on, forever, they will tread.

the sunrise sees them covered in frost
nightfall envelops them as they are lost
disagreements have begun
no one seems to be having fun
anger and tension start to spread.

competition is a powerful force
even on such a rough course
so the racers put on a tough face
expecting it will earn them a finish place
how fast we could move if we had a sled!

for the feet, unbearable becomes the pain
at least hallucinations can entertain
checkpoint after checkpoint, the LED light
is burned into the brain, clear and bright
blinking blinking, red red red!

long is too short a word
all the memories are blurred
stumbling across the finish in stride
the team is too tired to celebrate with pride
their backpacks now feel the weight of lead.

oh POCAR! how we long to take part
the challenge we feel deep in the heart
though pain is (usually) only temporary
it takes a person quite extraordinary
to finish the race and not drop dead.


Founded in 1946 
Built for The POC by Charles 
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