When I run

Heartbeat pounding

Hooves stampeding

Weight driving vertically into the ground, entropy releasing every pounding step

I tire too quickly, easily so

I picture growing a backbone, vertebrae stacking one by one

Painful growth towards my neck, seizing my breath and stunting my stride

To say nothing of my new ribs curling around, coiling my organs like a python

Sharply protruding, stabbing through on their journey

I remember every painful breath is calcium deposited into my skeleton and grit into my marrow. Without the work I am fleshy, globular; not in a physical sense but nonetheless in a real way.