I persist despite the flock of shirtless boys

in their Indiana red shorts racing

through the parking lot. The worst

part about running is the witnesses.

The other worst part is everything else.

I considered putting the car in reverse,

closing the ring of the round-a-bout

rather than my Apple Watch. They say

showing up is half the battle. Maybe

I can muster up the delusion

to see stalemate as victory.

My shrinking dri-fit tee

already the color of surrender.

I look for stragglers while guessing

at stretches. My toes flexed

against an ornamental rock the shape

of a half-eaten slice of cake.

What gets me going is the idea

of eating a softer, more chocolate version

of this rock & getting kudos from my sister

on Strava. I am better than most

at doing what I dislike. Even better

when I have a soundtrack. I’ve been

running three times a week. The worst part

of the run is the first quarter mile. The other

worst part is everything after the first mile.

It can’t always be the stretch between

the red barn and the utility pole,

where the world becomes

a Crayola pack of crayons. The field

a different green each day, peppered

with goldenrods and morning glories.

Violet spiderwort in the shadow

of a Do Not Mow sign. I notice

the white trunk of the silo before

it grimes at the top, like it’s always

been cleaned from the bottom.

Mottled walnuts spill across

the asphalt, which is stretched

like a corset over tree roots.

For a while, I counted wooly bears

inching their way into the grass.

Who first looked at a woolly bear

and thought “bear?” Who first

looked at a bear and thought “woolly?”

Foolishly, I break the 100-foot rule

and persevere around a doe and two yearlings.

Nearby, a woman wades in her gaiters

through the neck-high grass.

Bug net bobbing in the brush.

I notice a monarch alighted,

lapping elatedly from a coneflower.

Perhaps in the middle of its journey.

Perhaps about to begin.

Angela Lim is a poet, editor, and educator who is interested in poems that disorient and guide. She earned her MFA in Poetry at Indiana University and currently lives in St. Louis. Her poems can be found in Red Rock Review and Banyan Review.