Remember way back in the day when me and the Gangster hills had it out? I told the hills to suck it and kicked it’s butt from here to….to….to about the middle of September. I thought I was a Goodfella, a Wiseguy. But little did I know. After that, I couldn’t kick much of anything. I got the whole wonky ankle and didn’t run hills for quite some time. Now the hills may not have been the main culprit but I am pretty sure they played a role as big as Al Pacino’s mole.
I recently made a return trip to the hills after attempting them on the dread mill. I put in five solid hills, which is the equivalent of five miles. Our hill is a 1/2 mile up – not too steep but steady and then the 1/2 mile or so back down. It’s pretty much the only hill in town and it’s tough. (Just go back and read the way it spoke to me!) .
The problem here is that I really want to do the hills. I know they make me stronger, sure they are my least favorite run but after each one I feel so accomplished. Unfortunately, after the run last week, my ankle signaled to me the dreaded twinge of re-injury. It saddens me that I may have to quit hills all together some day. Then again, maybe you don’t quit the hills, they quit you.
Until that day, I’ll be rotating the hills weekly. One week I’ll do my hill repeats and the next week I’ll just do my race pace run. I will be packing heat to do battle with the hills in form of Tiger Balm and ibuprofen.
I guess this is what I get for taunting the Gangster Hills. I warn you not to make the same mistake I did or you may never “get made.” Just like Joe Pesci.