Standing at the bottom, staring up toward the top, I focus my glance back downward, aware that peering at the peak is too much to take on just yet.
Shuffling forward, toes hopping lightly in this moment before launch, I attempt to channel levity, to harness a second of springiness before I pop-off.
One final hop, and then, without a reason left to delay, my hand swipes down tapping my watch and,
“Beep!”
I’m off.
Exploding uphill, with no one to witness, each hand hurl is an act of hope, each knee drive an insistence of ability. Propelling my body upward against the increasing incline that I’ve selected this AM, for these moments, this hill is mine.
The plan is to push upward for a set amount of time.
And then repeat.
And then repeat.
Half a dozen to a dozen times.
Aiming to match or exceed the endpoint I reach on each subsequent effort. The distance is arbitrary, the incline is unadorned, but the effort is precious. Because at this moment all that matters is my ability to throttle my exertion correctly. I’m testing my capacity to take stock of what I am able and then balance back and forth over that line. Revving, then releasing. Maximizing without…
