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Hi Dwight,

I've been debating about whether to send this to you… Following is a poem which I wrote near the end of the spring season my sophomore year, 1980.  I've shared it with no one until now.  Perhaps you'd consider putting this on the poems section of the North Running web site.  It may not be that good, but it captures the essence of what a 15 year old boy was thinking around that time.  I've considered rewriting it several times over the years, but ultimately decided to leave it as is. 

For context, Steve Burns (class of 1981) and I had several knock down drag out 800 races that year.  I never did beat him that year, but we pushed each other to the brink of breaking 2:00 with my best being 2:00.9 and his being 2:00.3.  On several occasions, we were so close to each other rounding the final turn and our strides so uniform, that if you were on the opposite side of the track, you could only see one person.  And we both respected each other and remained good friends and teammates despite the intense rivalry we had on the track.  It made both of us better, but more importantly; it made the team stronger by having two runners that could go 1-2 in nearly every dual meet.  And because we were so close in ability, it seemed that every time we ran a swarm of people would crowd the last 110 on the track to help bring us home. 

That whole dynamic changed my junior year, when I shattered 2:00 in our first scrimmage against Bishop Feehan, running a 1:57.0.  But I really believe that it was my sophomore year running with and against Burnsy that taught me how to dig deeper than I ever thought possible and how to fight through the physical and mental fatigue that occurs in the defining moments of a close race.  Without that mental and physical “memory”, I might not have been able to get Muscato on a lean that day in June 1981 and bring home a New England Championship medal to NAHS.  Anyway, here's the poem.  I hope you enjoy it.

A Burning Wave

  (by Len Harmon, NAHS, Class of 1982)

  Circa June, 1980.

I want to win

I have to relax

I can hear it building

That feeling comes again

I surge into the turn

A sea of noise comes crashing in

The drone melts in my ears

Like the passing yards

My burning breath attacks my lungs and my legs

But my mind is stronger

I want to see my rival's pain

But my mind says No!

I surge again

Fighting through the flames

The sea closes in

The roar is intense

I feel the line and lean

I will return again

I want to win