There's another runner

I have conquered the hills. Today was the last day that I had to haul my sorry ass up from 37th (and a half) to 32nd and Camosun. I had to do it ten times. I left my apartment at 5:45 and got home at 7:40. I didn't bring a watch so I wasn't sure how long I was out there for, but it sure felt long. And I got hungry, which I don't often do. After doing the math I calculated that my 10 hills (up and down) added up to 11 kilometres. Plus I ran three kilometres to get to the hill. And then three back. Well, I didn't run all the way. I walked a bit. And crawled a little. I think I passed out and napped briefly on someone's lawn until they turned the sprinklers on me. Bastards.
I passed a couple out for a walk with their daughter and dog a few times. The little girl said once, "there's a runner" as I ran past. Then about five minutes later as I breezed past again she said, "there's another runner!". Aw, little Suzie isn't going to be a member of MENSA now, is she. I'm kidding! Kids are cute. Why would she think that a runner would run up and down the same hill ten times? It's akin to when people ask me, "So why are you doing this?". I never have a clearly discernible answer. I'd say "for fun", but unless you're a masochist it's really not all that fun. I guess I do it because I can, because it's there, because I want to achieve it. Like the mythical tenth hill.
The last hill was very symbolic because it was my last hill of the day and because it was my last hill that I'll have to run during this training. I stood at the bottom for a long time, savoring the orangey sweetness of my Powerade and picking noseeums off my tank top. I looked up, up the hill and appreciated its undulating greatness. It daunted and challenged me. I was tired and my muscles were started to twitch - always a nice precursor to a mind blowing cramp. I listened to the tick-tick-tick of a nearby sprinkler, and the sound of tug moving along, somewhere down the Fraser River. I conjured up all sorts of fun memories of being told that I wasn't dedicated enough, I wasn't trying hard enough, I wasn't committed enough, I couldn't do it, of being dismissed. When I was sufficiently burning with vitriol I launched up the hill. I envisioned my heels digging into the concrete, I imagined myself digging into the hill and pulling myself up with my hands. I attacked it. I conquered it. When I arrived at the top I wanted to jump around and dance a bit, but there were a couple of guys nearby that were already concerned that I was a prime candidate for a heart attack. Instead, I did something that I haven't done for a long time while running: I smiled as I sauntered all the way back down the hill.