From the bottom, looking up

This morning I woke up to with the knowledge that today's workout was going to be awful.  And not just awful-lite, we're talking a trip the dentist without Novocaine kind of awful.  You see, my dear reader, today was hill training.  And it was cold.  And it was windy.  And I just didn't wanna.

Throughout my journey to becoming a runner, and not just a trotter or plodder, I have created a list of dislikes about the sport.  For example, I dislike that I have to use a product called Body Glide - just sounds wrong, to prevent something called chafing - just IS wrong.  I dislike that sometimes no matter how much Body Glide I use, I still wind up chafing.  I dislike the fact that running attire is almost entirely made of spandex - there is no such thing as a fat day in spandex.  But what I REALLY dislike is hill training.

See, hill training involves sprinting up a hill at an ungodly speed only to trot down slowly and do it all over again.  It's "supposed" to make you a faster runner, but it just makes me feel like my airway is closing and I'm throwing up all at the same time - again, similar to going to the dentist.

But here's what I came to realize... hill training is in some ways similar to going through treatment for cancer.  Looking up at the hill is terrifying; you don't know anything about the journey until you start.  You may have preconceived notions, but you don't know how badly your legs will hurt, how your lungs will burn, or if it will ever end (some hills are winding).

Watching my best friend, KT, go from diagnosis all the way through treatment was like running up a hill for the first time.  When she made it to the top of the hill, or remission, her adoring fans were waiting there with open arms, cheering and showering her with love.  When she relapsed, it was like being at the top of the hill looking down, knowing what awaited her, and yet not knowing if it would be the same... or worse.  So she began the climb, again, with her fans carrying her along.  But like the wear and tear of hill repeats, the chemo had taken its toll on her body.  She trudged up the hill with all her might and made it to the top; a successful bone marrow transplant.  Sure, she was a bit more weathered and weary, but she did it. And then came the call - the transplant didn't take.  The hill became a mountain, and the mountain was insurmountable. 

In my eyes, no hill will ever compare to what KT went through.  She conquered her hills with dignity and grace; never once losing her smile or spirit.  And in the end, in my eyes, she remained on top.  She is the reason I continue to climb; she is and always will be, my inspiration.

KT - This hill's for you!