Would That The World Were Flat...

Hills. I Hate Hills. I have trouble getting up them, and I tend to fall down them. I quickly learned that
they don't provide soft landings.

If the world were flat, I could run or bike for miles and miles, from edge to edge. Alas, it's not to be.

Not so long ago.... a couple of years or so, I had climbed a hill down in Mesa, Arizona. Yes.... there are actually hills in the desert. It wasn't a particularly large hill, but it was there. So, I climbed it. The nice thing about being on top of a hill in the desert is that you can see for miles and miles. You could probably do the same atop a tall cactus, but I don't advise climbing a cactus. I won't explain why.

Now... it doesn't take rocket science to understand that, if you climb a hill, at some point you have to come back down. Preferably feet first, but come down you must. Unfortunately, I tended to come down hands and head first, breaking my wrist in the process... TWICE.

It wasn't always that way. When I was a kid, I thought hills were the best of the Creator's inventions. I could run up them, or climb up them, or even jump off of them, which I did on a regular bases when I started hang-gliding. I could climb a high hill and see the world from a different perspective.

But I digress... back to that hill in Arizona. The hike up was pretty simple. Someone had the insight to build a hiking path to the top. Once up there, and after taking some photos of the surrounding desert, including not so far off Phoenix airport, Tempe, and Scottsdale... I decided to climb down the opposite side from which I ascended. A dumb decision because the last 40 feet was almost a vertical drop. Not one to shy away from doing dumb things, I put my backpack on and proceeded to to climb down. Once I reached the last 40 feet, I twisted and turned my body so that I could get into a position
where my toes were on protruding rocks, and I had a good grip on others, with my fingers. Much like rock climbers do. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm no rock climber, as this experienced proved. Anyway, I descended another 15 feet before my feet slipped and I lost my grip... leaving me at the mercy of gravity for the last 25 feet.

twisting my body in hopes of turning and somehow breaking my fall, I landed on the heals of my hands, before the rest of me followed with a thud and I rolled over a few times, before settling on my back. Fortunately, I was spared hitting my head and I had my wits about me. I lay there for awhile,
taking in what just happened and assessing my condition. The pain in my right wrist suggested it was broken. Otherwise, I was all together. What I can report at this late date is, I have never tried that again.

My wrist eventually healed and, being back in Washington, I resumed my love for golfing. Unfortunately, a few months into the golfing season, I was in a run-away golf cart heading down a steep hill. As the cart started to turn on its side, I took a dive, which to the carts benefit my exit allowed it to stay upright. I, on the other hand, broke my fall with my hands, tucked my shoulder and tumbled down the hill. It wasn't until I reached the bottom that I realized I had once again broken my left wrist. Hills.... I hated them.

The Arizona and golf cart experiences aside.... my hate for hills has less to do with falling and more to do with ascending, by way of running and/or biking. It is my biggest physical challenge, at this late stage of my life. And, while you will often hear me bitch and complain about it... I have no doubt that I will eventually breach this challenge and put hills on the enjoyable side of my activities and accomplishments.

For starters, recognizing that my weight has a whole lot to do with my biking challenges, I have expanded my workouts to rectify that problem. My goal, a comfortable 2-3 pound loss per week.

Second, I will defeat my nemeses... a hill at JBLM / Fort Lewis, dubbed Dave's Hill by one of my friends and riding partners. This hill happened to be at the start of one of our weekly rides, so... I should have been able to manage it. That was not to be. I waited too long to change gears and then changed them in the wrong direction, causing me to stall and exit my bike.... walking up the hill in defeat. That, will not happen again. My calendar has 3 scheduled days a week when I will visit and tackle Dave's Hill. Eventually, that first experience will become a long forgotten memory. As will my hate for hills.

As always, Your Comments are welcomed.