There’s this thing about hills. It happens to me all the time.
You see a hill in the distance and you’re like “That’s not so big! I could totally get to the top of that! That would be so much fun!” So you run off through the grass to mount your new obstacle.
Only, hills are always much bigger than they appear from afar. And you’re always more afar than you first thought.
So you climb and you climb. It’s tiring.
There’s so much more hill to go. Climbing hills sucks. Your legs hurt. Your brain hurts. This was the worst idea ever.
At some point, it seems like it might be worth just giving up on this stupid hill. By then, you’ve usually gone far enough that looking back, the beginning seems very far off and rather small. And you know how long that distance really is, now. You’ve come a ways. Might as well continue.
So you huff and you puff and your quads burn and you make it to the top of the hill. Finally! Joyous day! Hallelujah! Carpe
the dayum hill diem!
You turn to survey your surroundings. Everything the light touches is your land!
And there, just behind you, is another damn hill.