Trackmas: A Poem By Brendan Shearn

Twas the night before Trackmas, when all through the house
Not a runner was stirring, not even a mouse.
The trainers were hung by the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Trackmas would soon be there.
The runners were nestled all snug in their beds,
With dreams of mile repeats clogging their heads
With mama in her kerchief and I in my cap,
We had just settled down for a post long run nap.
When out on the lawn their arouse such a clatter
I sprung from my bed to see what was the matter
Away to the window I ran like a flash
Tore open the shutters and shot put up the sash
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of gold medals to objects below
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
but 2 4x8 relays of people running like deer
With a little old runner so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be saint Trackmas
More rapid then sprinters his runner they came,
And he wistled and shouted and called them by name;
Now, Solinsky, now Jaeger, now Lomong, now Levin....s
On, Rupp, on Hall, on Lagat, and Ritzen
To the top of the Track, to the top of the wall
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!
As frontrunners before the wild kicker fly,
When they meet with a barrier, they mount to the sky
So up to house top the runner they flew,
With a relay full of spikes, and St. Trackmas too
And then in a millisecond, I heard on the roof
The stretching and jumping of each little shoe...f
As I stretched my calf, and was turning around.
Down the chimney St. Trackmas came with a hop skip and a bound.
He was dressed all in coldgear from his head to his foot
and his clothes were all tarnished with sand and soot
A bundle of spikes he had flung on his back
And he looked like a runner just opening his pack
His legs how they flexed, His smile how merry
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
His strong quads were drawn up like a bow
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow
The stump of his spike wrench he held tight in his teeth
And all around his head was encircled by a footlocker wreath
He had a slim face and no round belly
He looked like he could use a few bowls of jelly
He was thin and cut a right defined old elf
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of my self
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread
He had a quick stretch then went straight to his work
And filled all the trainers and turned with a jerk,
Laying his fingers aside of his toes, 
and pushing with his quads up the chimney he rose
He sprinted to his relay and to his team gave a whistle
Away they all ran at the speed of a missile
But I heard him exclaim as he ran out of sight
Merry Trackmas to all and to all a good night!