At what point can a hill call itself a hill?

I mean, compared to what is a hill a hill?

I have run a lot of races. Many of those races consist of running multiple loops around the same loop of property. I have experienced rolling landscape transform into into intense inclines, which later appear to be monstrous mountains, depending on what lap of which mile I am into the race.

Someone who lives in Colorado would probably have a different description of a  “hilly course” than someone who lives in north Mississippi, and the same would be true for the opposite.

Is a hill in my neighborhood considered a hill in the eyes of the Smoky Mountains of east Tennessee?

Does Mt. Everest thumb it’s nose in the face of the Smokies, or consider them to be hills at all?

Does having a different perception of what is considered a hill change the nature of the hill itself?

All things being equal, I would prefer to run uphill rather than down. I believe my legs to be relatively strong, and my heavy frame tends to ache with the pounding of the decline. Either way, there are two sides of a hill, one more preferred than the other. I would rather have smooth, soft terrain during all of my runs, but it doesn’t work that way. The earth is not flat, the courses are not smooth, and the terrain is not  soft.

Up or down, a hill is considered a hill if perceived as such. The level of difficulty climbing the hill, at the time of climbing the hill, seems to be what usually defines the size of the hill. Exaggerated in one person’s view and simplified by another, there are generally different varying descriptions for the same hill.

Problems seem to be viewed in a similar fashion.

What you consider a hill, another might consider a mountain, depending on what part of their race they are forced to climb it.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,