my ‘Italian’ running consisted of 2 types of runs:
Up at some ridiculous crack of dawn time for a long-(ish) run ranging from 6 – 16 miles.
Anybody who knows my form will know that I believe that on the 7th day God god did not just rest but he invented the duvet.
And, apart from that, on these early runs I normally had a bit of a hangover ( a big bit) and stiff legs.
The alternative was to do a shorter hill session at the end of the day (in the gap between coming back from the pool and before heading out for beer/wine/pizza).
The problem with this type of run (apart from the hill) was the temperature – about 38 Deg C.
It was like running up a very steep hill with a hair dryer blowing into your mouth.
I was going to insert the photograph of the sign that said 18% but having run the 10% hills I saw the limit of my abilities (and Mr. 10% sounds better than Mr. 18%)
Still, the view at the top of the hill was great: