And, in hopes of battering up my quads as much as possible in preparation for the Bandera hills, I found the steepest hill of trail within reach that I could in the state of Delaware and went to work on some repeats. I'd drive hard up and hammer back down even harder, which turned into more of a controlled falling. I hate hill repeats but have grown to love them at the same time. One one particularly chilly Saturday I took a break from the hours of manual muscle and range of motion testing to run out to White Clay and visit my hill. With each time downhill I'd get faster and faster yet, until the last one I was flying so fast, legs pounding, feet aching, eyes watering in the cold air and tears streaming down the side of my face. I embraced the feeling at that moment, as it let me know I was alive! When I hit the bottom of the hill I didn't stop; I flew out from the single track and back onto the main trail, not stopping until I reached the lab again. I went back to my studies that day more content than if I had just completed a 25 mile long run.