Vertical Climb

I have a love-hate relationship with hills.

Running hills is an interesting lesson.  It is hard for me to find peace with my body…I struggle with air (I need a mask and oxygen tank on wheels with a pole beside me),  I struggle to keep my shoulders back, struggle to look far enough ahead to stay focused, but not so far that I panic.  I struggle with what is 'natural' to do with my arms and how much to pump them, struggle with my pace, struggle with the 'and over' part, wanting to screech to a stop and bend over at the crest, struggle with catching my breath on the downhill, struggle with my limit on the descent between getting some turnover in my legs and going down with limbs totally flailing and out of control like a child.  I struggle with the morale it takes to do it over and over again, with the added pleasure of keeping my times consistent.  I just plain struggle.

I had a little work trip that recently brought me to Phoenix.  I feel so lucky that one of the outcomes of my years as a professional racer was that I had an opportunity to make friends all over the country.

Phoenix based Pro Triathlete, my friend Angi Axmann

 I quickly reached out to my friends with RaceLab, and they invited me on their group's 10-mile trail run.  I was warned it was a "strenuous 10-mile course" and I should "plan to walk a lot".   Ppppfft.  Whatever.  Terrain doesn't scare me, this bitch 'aint walking.  Bring it.

 Hmpft.  One thing I have learned - there is nothing the running gods love more than to punish a soul who isn't humble.  I met up with the group, and off we started.  The first 20 minutes were slightly challenging, but I kept thinking, "Oh man, I'm so kicking this mountain's ass.  This isn't so bad.  I can totally do this!"    Mmmm hhhhm.    I rounded a dirt carved corner and gasped. … I was staring up a vertical climb I would be on for over 40 minutes.  I huffed and puffed like one of the three little pigs, feeling weaker and weaker with each 20 meter section of terrain I furthered.  

Despite walking, I really did feel like I was hoofin' it.  I was moving.   I had been out there for a while.   Up until that point I had avoided looking at my Garmin but I was starting to get a little anxious to be DONE and needed a countdown.  I glanced at the total time and noticed 1 hour and 14 minutes had lapsed.  Wow.  Nothing like challenging terrain to make the time FLY.    I thought to myself that I was SURE to be close to the finish.  I took a guess that I was probably close to 8 miles completed, but definitely more than 7 miles.  I truly believed this.

I looked down at the distance.  4.73 miles.   HOLY SHIT.  Are you kidding?  I was going to be out there all day!   I was beyond humbled.

My friends assured me that the trip down would be much faster and easier.  But they didn't take into account the wimpy way I pick my way down a mountain.  I am slow and deliberate, annoyingly cautious and in some ways I prefer the suffering of the climb, just because my footing is firm.  I am certain there is a metaphor about my personality in here somewhere, but I'm not sure I want to see what it is.

I finished the 10 mile trail run in 2:09.   Actually it was 9.5 miles, so I am even suckier.  :)

Anyway, I did a lot of good thinking on that solitary trail.   I love the hills.  I hate the hills.

I can't keep myself from this antithesis, it's just too good.  Maybe that's why lately I've been making myself do a lot hills.  I want to be fit for these suckers…in running, and in life.  They often come: HILLS... be it in a race or in everyday living, when we least expect them.  We think we are giving it everything we have, and then WHOA, there it is, no way around it except to climb.  I feel an intense motivation to do "hill repeats" and to do them a lot... I want to feel dimensions of this inflicted pain, until I have a 'muscle memory' of it – in my legs and in my heart.  I want to have practiced enough, done the drills so many times, that when I am suddenly faced with a 'hill' of any proportion, I kick into auto-pilot.  I want to do the right thing, and do it well, if for no other reason than because it is what I have been trained to do.  In life, there is not time to dwell on accessing the hill.  You just go because it is blocking your path. Sometimes you even have to be strong enough to carry others with you.  Up and over.

 Maybe I just need to know that in a pinch, if the situation requires it of me, that I can haul a little ass.

The best part of a good run, "rehydrating" margaritas afterwards with Cory & Andy

And some quality time catching up with my awesome friends Angie Kell and Karl Tunberg

And.................. you know............... if this was your Arizona view and weather in February - what could you do but exhale?

That's what I am talkin' about!!