[Editor’s Note: This Community Voices piece is a poem by lifelong runner, Angie Funtanilla.]

The winds have died down and
It sounds as if so have I.

A bit of rattled I used to be the day prior to this,

What — with the frenetically whipping winds
You’d be too.

I ran anyway,
It didn’t subject,
It by no means does.

I imply the elements, after all.

Windy sizzling humid Unhappy,
Wet chilly Satisfied.

It might probably all come as it is going to,
And it does.

12 months after yr, regardless of the place
I in finding myself,

I lace up the kicks. That’s what I do.

Now not for a must or a prize or to stick to a few agenda.

Until you’ll name my middle’s need a agenda.

That’s once I move then, regardless.

Angie Funtanilla undeterred by way of a wet day. Picture courtesy of Angie Funtanilla.