My Own Private Heartbreak Hill

For many athletes running the Boston Marathon, the biggest challenge of the race is ascending Heartbreak Hill. Located between miles twenty and twenty-one of the 26.2 mile historic race, the famous landmark has frustrated and defeated many. It isn’t the 88 feet of climb that hurts so much—it’s the fact that this climb is the fourth in a series of hills that begin at mile sixteen. Heartbreak Hill lies at the end of a very long race and athletes are fighting extreme physical and mental exhaustion.

We all have our metaphorical “Heartbreak Hill,” be it job we really want or a family issue. As runners, these issues may be less about metaphor and more about actual physical barriers that hamper our running. It may be an increase in mileage that has us shaking in our trainers, a plateau in pace that is causing frustration or an actual hill we are straining to overcome. In my case, it was a hill aptly named “Cemetery Hill.”

Cemetery Hill is the street that travels along the local cemetery, hence the name. While is does not encompass 88 heartbreaking feet of climb, it is a hill that does command respect, particularly for a beginner runner like me. I could have just as well been running straight up into the blue of the sky.

Because I live at the top of a hill, all runs begin going downhill! Most of my runs are pretty flat after that until it comes time to head for home—there is no way to go but up. I had two choices: tackle Cemetery Hill or circle the neighborhood like an airplane waiting to land on a busy Friday night at O'Hare Airport. I chose to tackle the hill.

I employed several methods to help with my ascent of Cemetery Hill. Thinking momentum would propel me up the steep incline, I would pick up speed on the curve leading to the hill. Arms and legs pumping, I would hit top speed (which is not that fast but every little bit helps) at the base of the hill. Before the halfway mark, I would sputter to a walk, legs trembling and lungs quaking. This method works much better on a bike!

My next method utilized music. I don’t run with an iPod. I sweat quite a bit when I run; the threat of electrocution via wet ear buds is something I prefer to avoid. Instead, I mentally hum song lyrics that come to mind. When I am really struggling, I have been known to hum out loud. U2’s Beautiful Day or even Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger would be great motivational songs that could propel me up that hill. The theme to Rocky is perfect—no lyrics to remember. I could just hum it! Instead, I think of songs from my childhood. Does anyone remember the Abominable Snowman’s song from the movie Santa Claus is coming to Town?

“Just put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking cross the floor.
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you’ll be walking out the door!”

Then there were the catchy tune and lyrics from the theme song of Monty Python’s Life of Brian.

“Always look on the bright side of life.
(Whistle, whistle, whistle)
And always look at the bright side of life.”

And no, I did not whistle the whistling part. I could barely breathe by that point. If I whistled, I would probably have passed out!

When the other songs failed, I resorted to the fight song for our local high school.

“Oh yes, we’ll fight, fight, fight for Badger High.
Oh yes, we’ll fight, fight, fight for her!”

Singing in tempo with my stride, I would trudge my way up the hill, petering out to a crawl midway, where the fight song slowly became a funereal-like dirge—rather appropriate for a hill called Cemetery Hill.

Again and again, I would attempt to run the entire hill. Again and again, I would fail, heart thumping in my ears, breath wheezing in my chest as I stuttered to a walk halfway to the top.

One day I listened to a pod cast titled Zen and the Art of Triathlon. Created by triathlete Brett Blankner, the pod cast offers stories of Brett’s own philosophies, trials and tribulations as well as ideas to help people become better runners and triathletes. His approach is as much about mental technique as physical strength and on this particular pod cast, Brett talked about Zen philosophy as applied to triathlon training.

“I see you hill!”

This is Brett’s way of naming a challenge. If we can give our challenge an identity, it will supposedly be easier to overcome. Hmmm. Sounded kind of new age weird but I was desperate! So I tried it.

On my next run, I rounded the corner. Cemetery Hill and I faced off. I’d had enough of defeat. I was going to climb this sucker, running the entire way. Instead of my usual thoughts like I hate hills and Jeez I really hate hills, I looked to the summit of pavement and thought I see you hill! I threw in an I LOVE YOU HILL for extra propulsion. Then I put my head down and ran.

“Just make to the next mailbox,” I told myself. “Just make it to that sign, that driveway, that light pole. I love you Hill...” I wheezed.

I continued this dialogue and bargaining with myself. Stride by shaking stride, arms pumping, hearting thumping, sweat streaming, breath rattling, I slowly conquered my nemesis, step by shaking step.

I ran the slight descent to my subdivision with a huge grin on my face. I had conquered my own private Heartbreak Hill!