The Hill from Hellen

The view from the back porch of our weekend rental

Last weekend, I took a family trip to Helen, GA which sits in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains (I say this for my out-of-state followers).  This was a golfing weekend and I knew my running schedule would be put on hold because, let’s face it, golf, beer, and a sore back take precedent over running.  Besides, my sister and her husband drove in from Dallas, TX to partake in the weekend festivities so I had to oblige.

The more golf I played, the tighter my back became.  I drank a few extra beer with the thought that it might loosen up my back (my dad and brother’s remedy) but to no avail.  The second day of golf was so bad that I really thought about dumping my clubs in a nearby lake.  I felt every day of my 44 year existence.

Determined that I was not old and over the hill, I went to bed early and awoke about 6 am on a beautiful Sunday morning for my 10-mile run. The Ennsbruck community of Helen sits on the side of a pretty tall foothill. If they want to call it a foothill that’s fine but it’s a damn mountain.

It was unseasonably cool but still very humid from the thunderstorms that rumbled through Helen the day before.  Running into Helen from our vacation rental was a piece of cake.  I was blazing down the hill so fast that I quickly thought I was going to lose control or slip on some algae infested pavement. It was a great feeling (clean, cool air) as the run through Helen was mostly flat and looped around the city twice before I started my ascent back up the mountain. It was great UNTIL I started back up the tiny foothill.

I will never complain about another metro Atlanta hill. Never. Ever. The first hill on my ascent was a welcome site and I defeated it in a hurry.  The second hill is another story. This hill was so tall and long that after a couple of minutes of the ascent, I had the sensation that my legs were moving but I was going nowhere.  The hill was so steep that I felt the pavement was right in front of my face, so I was careful not to swing my arms too abruptly in a fear of hitting my knuckles on the pavement.  This hill hurt.  The pain in my calves and thighs was burning like a raging forest fire. To hell with my back, my legs are now another story. I had another sensation that if I leaned back too far or got too upright that I might tumble down the hill backwards.  Several motorists and passerby’s wondered what in the hell I was doing.  That’s when it came to me…my next blog…The Hill from Hellen!

Our Saturday Visitor…My sister claims we stirred him up from all the golf balls my brother and I hit into the woods!

My brother, Casey & I hunkered under the back porch of someone’s house along the Ennsbruck Golf Course as we wait out a thunderstorm!