The Runner/Terrain Relationship

The view looking out across the water to the San Juan Islands and mountains from the boardwalk near Boulevard Park is quite a backdrop to the Taylor Hill climb. I am always sure to take a quick gander at the ocean view before continuing on my routine running route which finishes at the peak of Taylor Avenue hill. A quick minute of observation then I turn around to face the next nine blocks of uphill. One hundred and eighty degree turn and my sight funnels to the uphill sloped view of Taylor Hill. The street goes up block by block, topping out and rolling into the next. This hill is the climax to one of my usual running routes — a point that I either look forward to or dread, depending on the day. The street is steep and lined with a narrow sidewalk and pleasant little homes with nicely kept wooden fences. Running up, I pass tall trees, scraggly blackberry bushes, and little garden beds in that take up corners of each yard. Taylor Avenue is inviting despite the nine blocks of steep incline on which I am about to embark.

The hill was introduced to me while my friend and I were out for a little jog. We ran to the end of Bellingham’s Boulevard park boardwalk and then turned to make my premier trek up Taylor Hill . My friend told me the hill was a regular part of her running routine and from there, it quickly became a regular part of mine. Both of us run the hill multiple times a week. It is a challenge that has become a point of common ground between me and my fellow runner friend. The pavement below our feet is a connection and unspoken understanding between us. It is literally common ground we share.

Most runners build a kind of relationship with the terrain they run. My favorite domain, for example, is rolling and rooted single track through the trees. The pavement and neighborhood of Taylor Ave mostly just holds the appeal of convenience and gets my heart rate up quickly. These runner/terrain relationships often fight an intense mental battle as well as test leg power. Your mind says go, legs beg to stop and the terrain (whether it be an incline, mud, technical footing, or whatever the ground looks like) is just there to add another layer of challenge to the whole situation. In the example of Taylor Hill, preparing for the big apex begins when I am tying my shoes. If I’m planning to run Taylor, I usually find every delay I can to dawdle running Taylor. Standing at the base of the hill always requires a little extra “umph”. The actual running of the hill varies each time (but is never a particularly joyful experience during the act). Cresting the top of the last block brings a rush of exhaustion/relief/pain/satisfaction. This strange relationship between the runner and the hill is build upon those woes and pleasures.

My feelings toward Taylor Hill vary depending on the day. There occasionally are times when I really feel like gettin’ it and complete one lap on the hill, feel hyped at the top then scurry back down the hill to ascend it another time. Then there are days when I just kind of trudge up, heavy legs and breath — only hyped at the top because the incline is over. There are also the days (the worst days) when I watch the base of the hill, let it glare back at me for a bit, and wimp out and turn around to head back on the flat terrain. Our relationship is constantly being revised — sometimes we really jam together, each step a little note in some pretty harmony. Other days, the jog up is similar to taking a cheese grater to my forehead — a very painful and arduous task.

Just to make it clear, I am not a lone crazy that often stumbles my way up Taylor Hill. Other runners have their own variation of this painful yet thrilling relationship with the hill. The friend that introduced me to Taylor Hill summed up her feelings by saying, “Taylor is something you just gotta respect. It’s intense and intimidating but once you’re at the top… that’s when you realize you actually LOVE it.” She and I have a funny habit of texting each other a little summary of how our Taylor experience was that day. Maybe our legs felt extra tired that day. Or we were getting after it and show off that we made it up two times. We each have a personal relationship with the hill which is also a platform and connection in our friendship.

Taylor Hill is, obviously, a geographical place. Professor of Geography at Durham University, Lynn Staeheli, writes an article, “Place”, about the many different aspects and contexts of place — geographical context being one of them. She discusses the “context of events, objects, and actions” and how they aide to define an area. In the case of Taylor Hill, the terrain, it’s surroundings, and the happenings around it are huge in influencing feelings and emotions a runner develops toward the climb. The geographical context surrounding Taylor avenue is crucial in shaping the runner/hill relationship.

My favorite time to run the hill is just as the sun is starting to set. The ferry terminal lights reflect on the water at the base of the hill. The sky and clouds are often illuminated by some array of warm colors. The surroundings of the hill, no doubt, have shaped my feelings toward the whole area. I have a kind of funny connection with the little girl who peers out of her living room window and watches as I pass her yard with a rope swing in front. There are a couple of small dogs that yap at me randomly as I trot past. More than once, I have seen a cute middle-aged couple unpacking their car of guitar and violin cases in preparation for an assumed band practice. Every time I pass the seventh block, I take note of the kayak hanging in the carport. I have a weird habit of counting every step I take between cracks in the sidewalk, putting in nonsensical effort to make each result equal. I feel like I know the avenue pretty well and that familiarity helps me to ignore the ache and strain I feel at the top of each lap and brings me back to run the route again and again.

Running the hill has strengthened my legs but I think it also has done something to strengthen my mind. On each grueling lap, I think of things I would rather be doing and that would take much less effort. I try to ignore the part of my head that provides excuses to stop chasing the hill and just peace out to spend my time on something less agonizing. Running Taylor has aided in helping to strengthen my determination and ignore the idea of giving up or going to the simpler task. I can transfer characteristics to be used in tasks apart from running.