Climbing a hill

This morning my husband and I did something we've been meaning to do for ages: walk around the outer loop of Wilson Botanic Park, ascend its highest point, and contemplate the metropolis of Melbourne. Lousy weather had caused us to postpone this the last few weekends, so we grabbed the opportunity this beautiful autumn morning afforded us and sprang forth. OK, I may be overstating the facts here: I was springy, he was ... participating; I must admit I'd been looking forward to this more than he had!

I was particularly keen to walk him up the steepest tracks in the Park: "See? I can run up this hill!" - childishly proud of my fitness, and wanting him to appreciate it, too.

Climbing up hills always has symbolic meaning for me. Perhaps it stems from my childhood, spent in a small town on the western side of the Blue Mountains; perhaps it's simply that, metaphorically, I've had to climb a few hills in my lifetime.

When I first began regularly running, back in 2008, I wasn't very good at hills. (Who is?) As a friend pointed out back then, "there are no small hills when you're jogging." I had been attempting a particular long, steep climb for a week, and had been beaten by it each time, reduced to walking the last hundred metres or so, thighs burning and breath rasping. It was a couple of kilometres long: a straight line which became steeper and steeper as you ascended; the mathematically minded might think of an exponential graph.

One memorable morning, in the pre-dawn dim, I stopped at the bottom of that hill and gave it a good, hard look. I said to myself: "Catie, all you have to do to get to the top of this hill is keep putting one foot after the other until you get there." It wasn't a pretty run - perhaps 'stagger' would be the best term to describe those last few blocks! - but it was the first time that I'd made it to the top without stopping or walking.

It was fun to relive that memory this morning, to remember that truth about running, about life: to get there, no matter how hard it is, you simply have to keep putting one foot after another. I think I needed that reminder this week.

One foot after another, one foot after another; sometimes, in running as in life, endurance is the name of the game.

With luck, it comes with an endorphin rush!