A few weeks ago, I completed Nike’s inaugural DC half marathon (you can read more on that adventure here). The city, the atmosphere and the course were a dream: 50s, plenty of eye-catching sights (running past the Lincoln Memorial, yes please), zero humidity and no hills.

I repeat, not a single stinking hill. And boy, was I looking forward to it. Living in Atlanta, I’m not certain in the entirety of my short time as a runner have I ever experienced such a thing for more than a mile or two.

At the starting line I was all smiles.

By mile five I turned to my new running buddy I made at the starting lane to describe just how great this was. I mean, I could breathe!

By mile 10, I hit a wall.

Thanks to the amazing support of my pace group, I didn’t miss much of a beat, but boy did those last three miles kick my butt…and it was flat, and cool, and the air was clear, how could this be happening?

It wasn’t until I ventured out a run once I got home that the common thread hit me.

Those hills? The ones I whined about and said good riddance to? I just might have a love affair with ’em. In fact, I’m sure I do.

But why? Because on a muggy afternoon run through Atlanta, it hit me, life happens on the hills.

I’m a stronger runner because I can conquer the hills. And those same hills that drag me to my core as I’m fighting up them? They carry me graciously back down to earth once I’ve reached the top.

Progress isn’t possible without a little pressure. Good might come from complacency, but in my limited experience, great most certainly does not.

During my first few weeks at Engauge (and in a “real” job period), we were getting ready to pitch a big new client. As I was new to the team and without a ton of client commitments, I jumped in to help with the simple stuff: research, note taking, I was all for any and all of it. On the night before the pitch, we celebrated moving to a new office space with a company party.

As I got ready to head out for the evening around 10pm, I checked in with my boss to see if there was anything left to do. His request, “by the way, be sure to wear something nice tomorrow, you’re going to come with us to pitch.”

Excuse me? Here I was, 22, serving as the note taker and you wanted me to do what? Big hill.

I don’t think I have ever been so nervous to walk into a room in my life.

The best part about the hill is that there is no true preparation. Sure, you can run drills, practice speeches, or put on a really fancy pair of sneakers (or pencil skirt), but when you take a look from the bottom, there it is, ready or not.

I think I ended up presenting one slide that day. It was the first of many “big kid” meetings I’ve had the opportunity to dive into here at Engauge, but still one of my favorites.

It was an opportunity to dive in head first with confidence none my own, but forced to embrace the trust and fervor of everyone around me. And just as those hills will always kick my butt on the way up, they most definitely send me smiling on the way back down and leave me eager to climb my way back to the start.