In my neighborhood in Kearney, Nebraska, everyone had bikes and we went everywhere on them. At every school I attended (elementary, junior high, high school and college), there was a single constant in good weather…full bike racks. Even in the winter, there were a surprising number of hardcore bicyclists (including me) that rode to class, barring blizzard conditions. Nebraska bike stores sold bike tires that were “good on ice.”
For as long as I can remember I have loved riding a bicycle. I remember the thrill of my first solo ride when I was five…the fear mixed with exhilaration when I realized my father (running along side me) had let go of the bike and I was steering and pedaling on my own. I still feel a bit of the excitement just writing these words.
But, as you know, Nebraska is flat. When I moved to San Diego, the hills and the traffic made biking seem dangerous and difficult. Besides, the 80’s aerobics craze was taking off and I got hooked.
Even though I was hooked on the group classes, on one beautiful day when I was trapped inside a room crowded with sweaty bodies, I looked out the window and I realized I was tired of exercising in place. I wanted to go somewhere.
Of course, I hated those San Diego hills. I planned every ride to avoid any hills…which is really difficult in Hillcrest. The name says it all. When you live on the crest of a hill, you can’t go very far without having to come back up the hill home. As I added mileage to my rides, I found that avoiding hills really limited my travels…same scenery every day…just like exercising in place. I had to overcome my hill avoidance.
I started taking bike rides without considering topography. I tolerated the hills I encountered just to get somewhere else. Of course, the downhills were fun, but they never quite met my expectations because they were never good enough to justify how much I hated getting back up the same hill.
Then I began commuting to work by bike. My bed in Hillcrest was 16 miles away from my desk in Mira Mesa. In the morning, I shot down the steep one-mile hill behind UCSD Medical Center to Hotel Circle. It was an exhilarating way to start a long morning ride.
But in the afternoon, after already riding 15 miles (about an hour on most days), it was brutal getting up that last vertical mile. The first couple of times, it was so discouraging looking up at it, that I just got off my bike at the bottom and walked up.
That was a hell of a note to end a ride on though, so I developed some strategies to do better:
1. First, I decided not to dread the hill. When I was at the bottom, I would not look at the climb itself, but instead I would visualize the view of Mission Valley at the summit.
2. I also gave the hill a personal identity. It was my enemy and I would face it squarely and attack. I imagined it laughing at my feeble attempts to make it to the top without walking.
3. I would not think about how physically hard riding up the hill was. As I climbed, I would keep pedaling, but instead of focusing on my pounding chest and burning leg muscles, I would keep my brain busy thinking about a good memory (first date with my now husband, Wade, for example), or something good that was going to happen in the future (like an upcoming trip).
Week after week, by employing these techniques, I made it up the hill just a little farther before I had to get off and walk. One day, I arrived at the summit and realized I was still on my bike pedaling. I had been keeping my mind so busy that I wasn’t aware of my surroundings until I was at the top. I let out a whoop…I made it!
From this day on, the hill was no longer my adversary. She became my friend. We were happy to see each other when I arrived each day. She was my ally, urging me on to the top, giving me a firm earthy boost all the way up.
Beyond just feeling a sense of accomplishment at the end of every ride, learning to love climbing hills had other benefits. It would have taken years of riding on flat terrain for me to realize the fitness gains I saw in just a few months on my hill. Plus, hills that used to seem big were not so daunting now. I realized the more hills I rode, the easier they all would be.
Since then, I have faced hundreds of other hills (on and off my bike). I’ve developed a few reflections that have helped me climb all kinds of “hills” in my life:
1. I try to accept hills as part of the natural landscape of life on earth. I want to embrace them instead of dreading them. I realize the only way to completely avoid hills is to stay in one place.
2. I remind myself that hills looks worse from the bottom. Whenever possible, I visualize the summit, not the climb itself. Contrary to popular advice, I don’t have to live in the moment when I’m climbing a difficult hill. I keep pedaling away, but it’s okay to let my mind dwell on meaningful memories or happy future situations, rather on the current difficult circumstances.
That’s the main thing that differentiates humans from other animals. We can choose to live out of some moments. I think it’s good to take advantage of that human skill. For example, grieving is more about living out of the most painful moments by dwelling on happy memories or trying to imagine a good future without the loved one who is gone.
Living out of the moment even helps me face small everyday frustrations. , Rather than getting more and more impatient with each passing moment when I’m waiting in a long line, I let myself have some wild fantasies about anything at all…travel to exotic locations, being someone else, sex, my dream profession, what I’d do with a million dollars, what I’d do if I was flat broke, etc. Living out of a boring moment helps pass the time.
3. I acknowledge that each hill prepares me better for the next. Almost all of us must face not just hills, but mountains in our lifetimes…grief, loss, illness, financial instability, betrayal,…. I’m hoping the hills I climb today will help me on the mountains tomorrow.
Some people want a lifetime of flat terrain. Some people accept hills but never learn to love them. Some people yearn to experience the exhilarating dowhill rides but not enough to tackle the necessary uphill climbs.
Then there are people who appreciate the whole ride, the ups and the downs. They ride anywhere they want. They appreciate the summits because they value the climb.
That’s who I want to be. I want to enjoy all kinds of scenery. I want to ride up so many hills that climbing is almost as easy as riding Nebraska flatlands.
Now all I have to do is find a way to love headwinds.
~Written in July 2002
School of Thought 