Tonight I ran a few blocks up the street to a hill. It's probably about a 15 percent grade, about a tenth of a mile long, but a good steep and short hill. I ran up and down it 10 times, sprinting up as fast as I could for as long as I could until my legs slowed and then I made it up to the top. I slowed, continued running a bit, then turned and came back down, letting my legs absorb the force of the impact of going down.
The sun was setting, so I could see the pink and red and orange hues on the downside of the hill, and as I went up, the sky deepened its blue, and a few stars appeared. I did 10 repeats. I could've done more, but I knew dinner was cooking, and the dropping temps made me worry a little bit on how slick the road would be on the way back. I probably ran about 2.5 miles total, and I was good and sweaty, and my legs are tired, but I need to notch it up.
It's funny how motivated you get when you start to expect more from yourself.