After wimping out of a run this week, because it was raining in Devon (see the Panther Lady's post) I needed to man up today and face a challenge, but with Park Run's Ninth Birthday tomorrow, I needed to keep it short and sweet, to conserve some energy. I hatched a cunning plan.
Reverse my usual route, add no extra loops, keep a gentle pace and run up......gulp.....Breakheart Hill. Now this hill is not huge, with its steepest section only about 50m rise in 300m, followed by about another kilometre of gentle rise. But its significance is far greater in my little mind, because on my first post grad run, when I still thought I really was a superhero, I was forced to stop running for the first time since starting C25k. Having just run 5k, I found that I had nothing in reserve when I met this monster. So, I had something to prove to myself.
It was strange going backwards around my route....well I wasn't actually.....you know what I mean. It all looked different and the field, up which I endlessly slog, at the end of every run, was dispatched in mere seconds, methinks, with the twinkling lights of Tesco making an enchanting rural scene. Down in the river valley I started to dodge the puddles on the track, only to realise that they went right across in several places. I love running through puddles.......I just discovered. Gwendolen was a late riser this morning and only decided to start doing her job after the first kilometre, so I seemed to wait ages for my first ten minute update. I think she's been reading my posts, because instead of flattering me with absurdly fast current pace times, she insulted me with something that a slug could conceivably manage. No matter, easy pace, conserve that stamina for the challenge ahead.
As I turned onto the road my adversary loomed ahead of me.........like a big hill. As I crossed the railway line........ Breakheart took on full Eiger like proportions. When I passed through the ****ing gate, (in 4.5 seconds) the full scale of this monstrous Everest overshadowed my puny human form, but undaunted, with only 2.5k on the clock, I strode into the foothills.
Now, whether it is mind over matter, or in fact matter over matter or indeed whether it matters at all, I don't know, but I shortened my stride to fairy steps, maintained my cadence (sort of) and found myself running up the side of this unconquered leviathan on tiptoes......like..... well like a very slow runner running up a very steep hill, actually. And boy was I glad when the gradient reduced. Gwendolen muttered something unintelligible, it might have been lack of oxygen on my behalf if I am charitable, which I dismissed out of hand, and there I was in the sunlit uplands of the upper slopes. Then it started to drizzle.
The moral of this tale is that a multitude of challenges face us every day, but if we prepare to meet them (and do hill training) then none of them is insurmountable.
B******S, I hear you say. Which was pretty much the tone of the language used by Lady da Truffe when I ran up behind her and gave her a sharp smack on the backside as she was returning from her run. I won't do that again. The smack that is. Breakheart is now just part of my reverse route, you know.