Spine Poetry - A Collection of Verses for the Family on the Way

This is the Way Ground that wants to eat you Starting with the legs Peat lined labyrinths laugh at your compass Jest about your GPS Whilst hinting that it's life or death That you hold it all together Whilst the world around is hazy You've one foot in the gravy And the other on drier land So flapjack in hand You make a choice of where to stand, to walk Maybe even to run Thousands of times Until it's done Hopefully finished Very possibly not As this is the Way The Way you hope you're done with Before it is done with you ___ I wrote this after standing in Sleightholme Moor wondering what the fuck I was doing there in the middle of the night alone, with annoying nose bleed (no idea why, but I've been getting them from time to time since I was a kid) and a sense that being 98% sure I was heading the right way was not enough. It was raining and blowing hard and I was determined to keep my shit together.  I wrote this thinking of that (and yes, I finished).

Thoughts of running long since gone My body's too tired to leave the ground But wearily it trundles on Resolutely Yetholm-bound Thoughts of thinking long since gone My mind's too tired to contemplate It does enough to steer me on Through dancing chickens on the gates Thoughts of feeling long since gone My soul's too tired to ache or soar But seemingly it cries and laughs In ways it never has before Yet thoughts of wanting never fade My heart is constant through it all When body, mind and soul are gone It's heart that's left to greet the wall ______ I've completed the Spine twice and one of my abiding memories is how tiredness takes different, perhaps more profound forms as the race progresses. Yet, you never stop wanting it. 

  Viva Lasagne   Visions of girls I never kissed Feet like Tyson Fury’s fists I paid a thousand quid for this Viva Lasagne, baby   The dogs at Bleagate roar their bark I’d shit myself, but can’t be arsed Three k more stumbling in the dark… Viva lasagne, baby   All I can think about, for now Is Alston’s legendary chow My pace has quickened, Lord knows how? Viva lasagne, baby   Pfft to High Cup, Cauldron Snout THIS is what it’s all about You’re gonna need a bigger mouth Viva lasagne, baby   I can’t remember how it tastes Metabolism set to ‘incinerate’ Be careful not to eat the plate Viva lasagne, baby   From walking sleep, I’m now restored Somewhere ‘twixt portions three and four It’s like I never ate before Viva Lasagne, baby   It’s time to leave, I’m gently told I’m sad: a sated, grumpy soul But Hark! The Angel’s up the road! Viva Lasagne, baby _____ With apologies to John Cooper Clarke for having his timbre in my head when I wrote this....

There are lots of times where you question your will and things feel like they are going wrong when doing the Spine Race. It's just so damn long. You end up lowering yourself into the hurt locker and accepting the discomfort from then on, but it's so hard to get to the that point, and for me, it happens quite early.  I hate this race. I love this race. __________________________________________ Too Many Devils That time, that place Where this can be no other race Enough has been endured so far The surface, barely scratched   This is the Spine alright Somewhere on that second night Halfway, marathons distant Yetholm a world away   Miles done in the dozens Yet the maths says this is early  The legs would beg to differ The mind especially so   It’s the perfect time for quitting Aches turning into fear With too many devils advocating Anywhere’s better than here   It’s a dangerous time Niggles nurturing the doubts How can I be moving north Wh...

This poem is dedicated to the magnificent Spine family of volunteers and race organisers. I wrote this after an amazing volunteer saw how shattered I was (having been awake herself for umpteen hours) and just dived in and took off my shoes and socks as I stared into the middle distance...to her, and to you all my profound thanks. ____________________________________ Double Knot 20 hours in and your eyes start to go But none of them know, how could they? They’ve been busy out there, getting to know themselves Their trances interrupted by your devotion Nothing is too much, you say Imploring them to understand that their race is your race too   Such nice heroes, they don’t like to ask Their manners won’t comfortably task you So we get straight in, we take a knee Fingers through the mud and shit Into that double knot and peel off the socks With that, they get the picture   They get that we are relentless, Tailwinds with hands and feet Toiling so you’ll sleep and eat...