1. Hill at the Start
The run was no different yesterday that it has been on the last few Saturdays. I quickly found myself near the back of the pack. That’s just the way it is. Frankly, it just feels good to be running again, so it’s fine. And anyway the morning was mercifully cool.
The day’s route was difficult. There were hills. In particular, there was a big hill at the beginning, which meant that before we had warmed up, we were huffing and puffing. And on the far side of that first hill, the route descended steeply to Lamar Boulevard where we began a slow steady climb uphill again to the five mile turnaround.
Read that carefully: there was a steep descent in our run right there near the beginning.
In other words, on the way back, somewhere around the four mile mark, there was a steep quarter mile climb. And let me tell you, this is one of the steeper hills in town. I used to ride that stretch of 12th Street on my bike years ago when I was a student. Even on a bike, I usually had to stop and walk.
2. Hill at the End
That hill is waiting for us on our return.
I’ve fallen completely to the back and am running by myself. As the light turns green, I can see the other five milers getting near the top. I begin my climb, taking small and then smaller steps until I’m moving at what seems a ridiculously slow pace.
This isn’t running, you say to yourself, when you’re running a hill like that.
I pick my feet up just a bit, and now if feels more like marching in place. Yet I am moving forward. And even though my lungs are burning and the sweat is pouring off me, the air is cool and the breeze feels great.
I am going to make it up this hill without stopping.
3. Reaching the Summit
I look up.
The five mile group has reached the top. I see one or two of them turn in my direction. They seem to be waiting. I wave them on. They all turn toward me. Some wave. One jumps up and down. I can hear them shouting and calling my name.
In that moment, I am sprinting to the finish of an Olympic distance race. The stadium is packed. With the roar of the crowd ringing in my ears, I pick up my pace — even at this, the very steepest part of the vertical ascent. With the finish line just a block away, I pump my arms harder. I pick up my pace. And I finish hard. There are high-fives all around.
And in that moment, I can think of no downsides to running at the back of the pack.