Susan Denham-Smith

"First of all I would like to thank all those involved with this year's 24hr race in Tooting, it was an exceptional experience.

I have enclosed...2 poems about my day.  The second one is rather short, just 2 words in fact.  It is exceptionally hard to put all the feelings and emotions into words, but I think these 2 sum it up.

Transient Paralysis

Paralysed in the dead of night
Pain in my left thigh
Agony the right

Crippled but temporary
Knowing soon I’ll recover
I grieve for those out there
Whose pain stays forever

For my dead limbs are my fault
Brought on by a passion
To run so much further
In circular fashion

To run through the night
Through the blisters and bloating
The moments it gelled
I was flying and floating

Watch the bums and the ankles 
The elbows and shoes
The names on the score board
Working out which is you

Are you up on the top slot?
Or down there with me?
One moment you’re 1st place
and I’m 23

But 12 hours have passed
And your glycogen’s spent
You followed your strategy
On leading hell-bent

From the top of the ladder
To place number 3
I’m closer to you
You’re nearer to me

For a 24hr race
Is about pacing, control
Of doing your own thing
To start at a crawl

And to keep on the crawling
When the others are spent
For an over-fast first half
You’ll later repent

For as the sun brightens
There’s more walking than running
And it’s those who’ve slow-started
Who are keeping on coming

Round the red corners
First clockwise and then counter
My muscles still feel fine
There’s plenty of banter

Why Sarah pulled out and
Who ate all the porridge
The Norwegian’s got Blisters
And someone’s sister’s from Dulwich

Then there’s Hawkwind and Dido
blaring out from the headphones
and cold helpers with lilos
Texting messages home

Of success and heartache
Of laps all gone by
Of vomit and stiff legs
And keeping on trying

And I’m up in the front pack
I’m keeping on running
With 23hrs gone
The prospect is stunning

A personal best
And 3rd in the race
But looking behind me
there’s just one last face

For Tricia’s a wise one
Who began with a crawl
If I slacken off now
I win nothing at all

There’s a triple “A”’s medal
An English award
If I just keep on jogging
Keep her spectre abroad

When 12 o’clock comes
And the gun scares the birds
I stop on the track
and I’m given the word.


That my effort is over
And my muscles are screaming
My everything’s sweaty
And my face is now beaming

I’ve done what I came to
On this 24 hour run
The joy and the agony
And a whole lot of fun

October 2005



48 divided by 2

Intoxication
Paralysis

October 2005