Ran my five mile route on Saturday, under duress from my de facto, appointed-by-me and bothered-by-me-endlessly running coach, who tells me that if I want to run a marathon, (a decision I will have made yesterday) I have to, like, run more than 20 miles in a week or some kind of nonsense like that. So even though I’m very busy with important people things, like laundry and dishes and pinterest, I ran my five mile route.
This little route takes me up some lovely rolling hills which kind of slow me down when I get to them because, you know, they’re gently rolling and they ascend and I don’t come in a motorized version, yet. As I pushed my knees up the last hill—I always try to make this one my … I try to run up it with strength and grace—I realized I was making my Hill Face.
Hill Face is not pretty. I don’t need a mirror to know this. I can feel it. And this is why I wear shades. Even in the rain. I am saving the public from having to see Hill Face. You are, indeed, welcome.
Anyone who has ever applied mascara knows that thing you do to open up your eyes to get the gooey mess as close as possible to the lash line. The mouth automatically opens in a way that reminds me of Walt Whitman “sounding his barbaric yawp,” lips curling around the teeth. You may not know what a yawp is until you see it; and you will see it when you apply mascara. Your mouth, at that point, is a yawp. (That right there is my first WW reference since college. My professors are very proud.)
Hill Face mimics Mascara Face but with a kind of pucker thrown in for…affect. Additionally, my eyes focus on the hill’s zenith, and my eyebrows knit themselves into a frenzied focus, veritably merging the two sides of my face into one. I may or may not talk to myself. Out loud. Reports can’t be confirmed.
Hill Face must appear to resemble Agony Face, a term I believe defines itself. As soon as I notice the straining facial muscles, I do two things: first I take a quick look around to make sure no one has been exposed to the horror. Then I make myself relax my facial muscles. Easier said than done when running up a “hill” trying to be all “Rocky at the museum.” Hill Face is not Agony Face. It is
“I’m talking to myself here, and what I have to say is fairly encouraging but mildly difficult.”
When I involuntarily make Hill Face I am thinking this:
“Get those knees up girl. You’re almost done. If you pick it up here, you’ll have good splits. You can push it now and then you’re done. Get. Get. Go.”
People are funny, hey? I wear sunglasses, gigantic, face-surrounding zippy looking shades, to protect the cheering throng of exactly no one from something I do to help add a kick to my kick.
How about you? Do anything goofy for no good reason? Or, how do you get yourself up your own hill?