I like to jog a few times a week with my BFF, an 80lb hound dog named Goose. Goose and I run in a local park of open meadows, with paths mowed around and through them, and mountain bike trails cut through the adjoining woods. The wildlife is abundant, and Goose gets to harrow deer, squirrels, and the occasional fox. The trails are relatively easy for a mountain biker, but some hills can be tough for an old jogger like me.

One particular hill goes for about 300 yards. It isn’t super-steep, but it is at the end of our run when even a gentle grade can affect my psyche.

Just looking at the rise and length of it intimidates me a little. Usually, I break it into chunks. As I approach the hill, I look down rather than at the top. The top seems too far away when I’m at the bottom.

I look down and count 100 right footfalls. That gets me over halfway there. When I look up again, it is still daunting, but not nearly as daunting as when I was at the bottom; the top is now within reach.

This works a little, but I have been running there for so long that I know the ground, so even looking down, I can still estimate how much further I have to go. My mind’s eye sees the distance to the top.

Last week, when I got to the hill, I was surprised by a fallen tree. The tree was huge and had fallen across the path above the halfway mark.

It was so big I couldn’t see past it to the top of the hill. I set my sights on getting to the tree and got there fairly easily. When I went around it; I was pleasantly surprised to see that the crest was within reach. The hill that kicks my ass every run didn’t kick my ass nearly as much on this day.

When I teach goal setting, I teach folks to break down the big goals into manageable steps. I teach them to create monthly and weekly plans with those steps listed and dated.

This is why the tree helped me. My goal was no longer the distant top of the hill; it was the tree, and once I got to the tree, the rest of the goal was doable.