They're coming to take me away! Hee-hee, ha-ha! To the funny farm we go!

Yes. Today is the day of the hills. The 95º day of the hills. The 95º and humid day of the hills.

I came back to my old haunts today, back to my purdy 80-yard hill near my house. I jogged a 2.something-mile warm-up to the glorious mound of searing hot pavement that will surely, one day, take my soul. If it hasn’t already.

I walked to the bottom, ten counters in hand (ye never want to do to many or too little of these suckers, ye-hear?). I snatched up one of them (a stick) and sprinted to the top. I placed my counter above the sewer drain and repeated. Ten times.

By the end, I felt quite disoriented. Not lightheaded or anything health-threatening, mind you. Just utterly happy. This is what I like to call Euphoria from Hell, and it only comes from doing sprints or hills on one of the hottest, muggiest days you could find.

But I must say, it feels great. Especially to have it all behind you as you jog home grinning from ear to ear about your accomplishment.