Wild Back Yard: Trails of the Boise Foothills
By Michael Lanza
The trail tilts abruptly to a much steeper angle ahead of me. This is the uphill stretch that always whips the snot out of me. For several minutes that pass like epochs, I take a painful waltz with my anaerobic threshold, willing myself to keep running—even slowly—when my body just wants to stop, walk, and breathe without the sensation of flames in my lungs.
Okay, sometimes I give in and walk for a minute. Today, though, I push on to the top of the hill, where my heart and respiratory rates return to comfortable cadences.
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