Coming home from running, that’s the finest time of day;
When your legs are spent and tired, when the sky is turning gray,
When autumn air is stinging and your feet upon the ground
Shuffle leaves that snap and rustle with an autumn lovely sound.
With your sweatshirt on your shoulder and your track shoes in your hand,
Walking home with rival runners in a weary, friendly band.
When afternoon is ended, when you trudge toward locker lights,
When the race is over only to be rerun on winter nights.
Then you’re coming home from running in remembered autumn months;
It’s life’s finest tired feeling but it only happens once!
By
Richard Calisch
Cross Country Coach
Prospect High School
Unknown date, but before 1968.
