This week I had the pleasure of running on streets I hadn’t been on in over sixteen years. The very college town where I met my husband and had my first child. On one side of this town is a brutal hill. Long and steep, this hill challenges the endurance of even the most experienced runners. In my younger years, I ran it at least once a week, to push my abilities to their limits. But this week, I fully intended to leave it alone on my run. My legs are no longer in their early twenties, and I don’t run nearly as much as I used to do. Only a bonehead would do something that crazy. Sigh…just call me bonehead.
Where I live now is much higher in elevation, so when I started my run my lungs and legs felt extra strong. I decided to push a few more streets over then I had planned only to find myself on the very street that led up that monster hill. “Just go to the bottom and turn around.” I told myself over and over again. Then out pops a young runner from a side street ahead of me.
Watching her pump her way up that hill kicked my competitive side into overdrive. I didn’t come back to my senses until I was about halfway up the hill heaving for breath. But my competitive side wouldn’t be reasoned with. “We’re already halfway, finish it.” So I did. It was nearly a crawl at the top, but I did it. And now all I want to do is smack myself for all the unnecessary pain throbbing throughout my body. Good job, bonehead.