Hills have been on my mind lately.
As those of you who ran or walked ZOOMA Austin know, our 2009 Bastrop course has plenty of them. At packet pick up the week before the race, Nathalie and I talked with plenty of women who were “afraid” of the hills on the course. I could see fear in their eyes as they asked timidly, “Is the course really that hilly?” Many of them were new runners, for whom a little apprehension was reasonable, but for the more reasoned racers, fear of hills seemed to come from someplace deeper.
Then last weekend, Seth (my husband) and I took our bikes to Middleburg in northern Virginia wine country. The day was perfect (70s and sunny), and the surroundings were serene and green. Old stone estates, rolling green lawns and galloping horses were the setting for the ride. The country roads in Middleburg, however, are not flat. Hill after hill confronted me as I huffed and puffed to keep up with Seth. In an hour and a half ride, I walked the bike up 2 or 3 huge climbs. It was a challenging work out, but the beauty of the surroundings and the perfect day made the effort worthwhile.
At points in my running career, I have considered hills the enemy, to be avoided at all costs. I came by this fear honestly, growing up in north Florida where my team was forced to run over bridges for hill workouts – there were no naturally occurring hills within running distance of my high school. This may come as a surprise to anyone that has run a ZOOMA race. The founder of ZOOMA is afraid of hills? Of course, nearly all ZOOMA courses have hills and plenty of them. The new Denver course will be flat, but Atlanta, Annapolis and Austin are all hilly.
True, it is more difficult to run on hills than on flat ground. But doesn’t the elevation change feel good in a weird sort of way? Using different muscles, modifying your stride, the mental diversion of achieving a milestone (the top of the hill) in the midst of a longer challenge (the whole race)?
Living in northern Virginia outside Washington, DC, I have become familiar with hills and have learned to appreciate them. What is running without a challenge? Why even lace up my shoes if I don’t have a chance to get outside my comfort zone just an inch?
I do believe all those things, but here is the real secret to my change of heart – No shame in walking.
I can identify with those women we met at ZOOMA Austin packet pick-up, who had real fear in their eyes and dread in their stomachs about how it would feel to run up a big hill because I have felt that way before, plenty of times. My response to them every time was this: “If the hill gets too hard, just walk. There is no shame in walking.”
And that’s what it comes down to. If I had been truly afraid of hills, I never would have agreed to bike with Seth in Middleburg. True. Several of the hills got the better of me, and I walked my bike up those. But you know what? If I had never gotten on my bike that morning because I knew the route was tough, I would have missed out on the fabulous feeling of the wind rushing by me, below a clear blue sky, and an empty country road in front of me with the most vibrant green lawns framed by old stone walls on either side of me.
In the same way, if women in Austin had been afraid of the ZOOMA elevation chart, they would have missed out on the galloping horses, the Texas wildflowers, and feeling the energy of thousands of other active women putting their effort toward a common goal.
Hills are not something to fear. Yes, they are hard, and sometimes I go up against a hill, and the hill wins. But why is that so scary? These days, I think of hills as variety, a diversion, a test… and inevitable.
If we don’t embrace the hills, just think of what we will miss.
