I used to hate and dread running hills. There are plenty of hills in my ‘hood and it’s impossible to avoid them. I used to approach hills with the expectation that I’d run as fast as possible to the top. So before long I’d be dying and gasping and have to slow to a walk. And then I would spend the walking time beating myself up for walking. Like I “should” be in better shape. How dare I do anything other than sprint up the hill. Nice huh?

So one morning I’m facing the evil Dunbrack hill. It’s steep in the middle and less steep in the other places but goes on forever to make up for it. And *bing* it occurs to me - why don’t I run this hill like I hold yoga poses? Why don’t I play the edge? Why don’t I find that spot that’s *less than* hurting. So I’m working but not dying. I could adjust the speed in micro-movements. Slow down for the steep part, or speed up for other parts. But keep it at a level of exertion where I’m not panting like a dog in the desert.

I tackled the hill, found my pace, my mind promptly wandered and the next thing I knew I was topping the hill.

This was pretty profound for me. The idea of doing something based on my body’s ability rather than the standards my head brings to the table or what the evil Perfectionist-Corilee thinks I should do (she needs to be shot, seriously) was pretty amazing. I like to work hard but I don’t need to be a freak about it. I can’t wait to tackle hills now.