Climbing the Mountain

I've decided that I am going to run a half-marathon in December, and from what I hear it's a very tough, hilly course. So I've been taking up the distances that I've been running, and making sure to test myself with hills whenever possible.

About two miles from my house there is a country road that goes up and over a ridge. I'd say it rises 800 feet or so in 3/4 of a mile. I had always been intimidated by this hill: there are some really steep sections where even my trusty Passat complains. But Saturday morning I got up, and I determined that I was going to run that hill. It was a gorgeous day for it, too. The sun was out (at least partially) for the first time in a week, and the leaves are starting to turn in earnest.

I ran the two miles to the intersection, crossed over, and started climbing. And you know what? I kicked that hill's ass! It was so much easier than I thought it would be. I turned around a little bit after the summit, and ran back home. I wasn't even all that tired. So next time, I am going to run all the way over it, down into the next valley, and then turn around and come back. I have a feeling it's much tougher coming the other way, but I'm up for it.