“Oh bloody hell”

It’s time to come clean folks. I am not going to lie. I did not want to do these hills. I dreaded these hills. Secretly, I hoped, wished, silently begged for my critter-loving running chick to have a critter-style emergency resulting in her being a no-show. No such luck. I first saw the agenda for Tuesday’s hills about a month ago, when I was organizing the Sunday babysitting schedule. The second my eyes drifted past the workout, they nearly bugged right out of their sockets. What the frick? Are you kidding me? No! No! No! I am not doing those. I can’t do those. I will not do those hills. There is no way my legs, let alone my lungs, can withstand those hills. Ninety second hills should not be allowed. Eight times 90 second hills should never be spoken of. I spent a month trying to concoct the perfect …

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