The Women's Winner

I watched the New York Marathon.
A woman held the lead;
And everyone expected her
To win the race, indeed.

Another racer tagged behind
But halfway through, dropped back
And then the coast was clear –
To win, the leader was on track.

The race goes on for miles –
Twenty-six, to be exact;
When she hit twenty-three, we saw
A view the leader lacked.

Another runner’d closed the gap
And soon had passed her by,
With energy and confidence
In limitless supply.

The one who’d had the lead at first,
Ran fast as she would dare,
Yet in the end she lost,
A tortoise beaten by the hare.

I feel so bad for number two,
Whose spirits had to sag
When she saw slip away
What she was sure was in the bag.

But life is filled with elements
Of let-downs and surprise.
It’s foolish to trust certainty
Though it might tantalize.