Hills, horrible things that go up the way. They seem to go down the way less than they go up the way. They go up, up, up.
Last night I went to Stella’s running club in Glasgow with Bruce. It was hill work, or should I say hell work.
Run up a hill softly on the balls of your feet as if you are running on icing sugar.
I like icing sugar, hell I use it lots in cooking and baking, hmmm why can’t I imagine running on the stuff. I am more ploughing up the hill in the form of a knackered old carthorse at the end of a long day.
It is hard and difficult to keep enthusiasm when you are being lapped my all the other runners. We hang in there, Bruce powering up those hills like a good ‘un, me whizzing down and getting my breath.
We make it, we last out the session and we laugh and smile about it. We might even have raised a glass of wine to celebrate the fact that it was over.
Ah the best bit of training is the results.
ps the photo is the fit and fab Stella, not me!