I'm an ultrarunner; an ultrarunner I am.
I dreamt I saw doughnuts and I hallucinated ham.
I poured what I thought was ketchup on a long-suffering dog
And tried to shake pepper from an exasperated frog.
I ran until people who saw me felt queasy,
Then went home and told everyone I met that it was easy.
On my wife's birthday I ran an easy 11,
Bought her a nice dinner, and then fell asleep at seven.
But, inexplicable as it is, in her mind it must be fine
Because 8 (or 30) hours later, she's always waiting at the finish line.
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