Turning Mountains Into Molehills

Today’s run was scheduled to be a short one – a mere eight miles at 3:1 intervals.  Perfect for a gorgeous nearly-spring day, as the local park is but nine miles away from our front door and I never mind tacking on a few extra steps.  So hubby mapped out a route along the back roads and we planned our rendevous.  He mentioned something about hills but I was still feeling cocky after my brush with Insanity last night.  Hills, shmills.  And then…I saw this…
I paused.  Long enough to swig my Energy&Endurance Formula, take this shot, and gather myself.  I set off on the downhill and averted my eyes from that intimidating uphill.  “You, my friend, are a Spartain-in-training! A P90X-er! This hill…really isn’t that bad…”  I found I didn’t need my own cheering to keep me going, because my previous training was handling that just fine and dandy, thank you.  And close up, that hill looked just like every other stretch of road I had ever run.  Funny how that works.
It wasn’t the only hill I ran today.  But it was the biggest and scariest…before I started climbing it.  Like any fear, it got smaller and less fearsome the instant I tackled it.  So my short run was a hard run, but it turns out, I’ve got those covered backwards and forwards.  And I amazed myself yet again.
…and even had a little energy left to follow this guy around the park…
My little motivator πŸ™‚
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