The hills are my friends

It’s been 8 years since I first ran a Race for the Cure, and 2 years since I first had a lump removed from my breast. I loved running the race again…if I have to be part of this breast cancer battle, I’d rather be the part that gets t-shirts and cheerleaders than the part that gets stitches and get well cards.

I didn’t train for the race this year.  I didn’t even charge up my Ipod.  I didn’t decide for sure about entering until the alarm went off this morning.  I’m glad I did…still, cold weather…great music…great cause…every breath reminding me how good it is to be alive and part of something.

Years ago, my running buddy told me that the hills are my friends because they want to make my legs stronger.  Metaphorically, that may be profound, but this morning it was just a mantra to keep me moving.  I didn’t run the entire 3 miles today, but I ran up all the hills, because you have to hang with your friends.  And I ran down all the hills, because I figure my friends owed me something.

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