This is The Hill. This is the first thing I think of when I think of “momentum.”
I walk up this hill to torture myself as a workout. (Not in the winter. I’d probably die.) It’s only about a mile and half, up the hill to the end of the road and back down. It’s really not far. But it’s steep. Really steep. At the steepest point, right before the ground levels out, you’re bent forward, climbing vertically, like you’re moving through quicksand.
At least that’s how I feel. My best girlfriend shows me up by running up and down this thing TWICE.
That bitch.
Anyway. She’s a runner. Which I am not. I honestly can’t imagine climbing this thing twice in one day.
The only real reason I even climb the hill because I want to be able to climb it. I need to be able to climb it. Especially since there’s so much that says I shouldn’t be able to do it. I always want to prove it wrong. The hill’s all, “Haha, you’re not gonna make it this time, limpy!” And then I have to be all, “Yes I am, you asshole. And quit calling me limpy.”
What? You don’t talk to hills?
There have been a lot of times I’ve been in so much pain (the hip, people) on this hill that I’ve wanted to stop and turn around. Like, really wanted to just give up.
But I never can. I never turn around. I always make myself get to the top. And I always pay for it later. But the pain is just a reminder that I finished something I started. I accomplished something I set out to. That, to some small degree, despite my failing joints, I am still capable of some type of physical achievement. And that’s why I do it. Even though I hate it. Even though it’s torture.
I just have to. My worst fear is the day I actually can’t.
