"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. Is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves?"
-- Friedrich Nietzsche
I know it's wrong to hate, but I do hate you. You have that third-of-a mile long hill, and it lies near the finish of my now-favorite course. It's so steep that I'm surprised the residents haven't asked for an escalator to be installed. As a matter of fact, I don't even like running down your monster hill when I'm just getting into the run, what with all of the bone-jarring pounding I must endure.
I must admit, though, that you are making me as strong as a bull every time I make it to your summit. I see your hill, shining in the sunlight, as I run emerge from the dark Algonkian Park wooded trail, already exhausted from the previous miles. You challenge me to charge that hill, which I grudgingly do, reaching the top with legs the consistency of jelly. The last half mile then becomes more of a death march than a run.
I'll see you again tomorrow, Clifton Point Street hill.
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