We drive over a long steep hill every day on the way to school. Steep enough that when you’re going down, the kids shout, “Roller coaster!” and when you’re going up, you need to downshift if you’re driving a stick. (I think…I gave up on the stick shift a few years after I moved to Seattle. Hills, rain, back-in angle parking on hills in the rain, just no.) Anyway, I like to run in this neighborhood all the time but I always manage to avoid going up that hill. I’ve only ever tried twice, and both times I ended up walking a little bit, and felt like I failed and then I was afraid to try again because what if I failed AGAIN and then I become a total headcase over this dumb hill that’s only about half a mile long anyway and I’m going two miles out of my way to avoid it and ohmygod stop it’s just running you do this for fun get over yourself what is wrong with you. Welcome to my inner monologue.
I don’t know why today was the day. It was pouring rain but I kind of like a good rain run as long as it’s not too cold or windy. I’ve accepted that I’m a little slower right now, which has been liberating in other ways; it makes longer runs easier when I’m not concerned with time, and it turns out that works on hills too. So I wasn’t very fast, but I made it up without stopping. And now of course I’m thinking, “Keep doing it! You can do that hill two or three times a week! Eventually it will feel so easy!” And maybe I will. Or, maybe I’ll never do it again. I mean, I know I can do it. That’s enough, right?
