I run on average 3 times per week, and my typical run is either from my house to Point Pleasant Park and back - about 15 km - or to the Dingle and back - about 5 km. Which route I take is highly dependent on how much time I have in the day, how I'm feeling, and how much pain and suffering I hope to inflict on myself that day (just kidding, but not really).
On my run this morning, I felt groggy, my knees hurt, my calves were screaming, and I was struggling to keep up even a gentle pace. It was a beautiful sunny morning, the light through the trees was ethereal, and I was rocking out to some great tunes. So no excuses at all for being lazy.
Then I hit the big hill.
There's a hill from the Dingle, at the bottom near the ocean, up to the gate entrance to the park. I've had an internal duel with this hill since I moved to Nova Scotia, and it has become my nemesis. Chuck Klosterman has this amazing description of arch enemies vs. nemeses.
A nemesis is someone you battle but secretly like, someone you'd miss if they were gone, someone who ultimately makes you better: Batman and Joker, Roy Kent and Jamie Tart, Captain America and Ironman, Adolf and Rudolf Dassler who founded Adidas and Puma respectively.
An archenemy is someone you hate deeply to your core, who you would piss on their grave, whose very existence riles you up: The Avengers and Thanos, The Jedi and Emperor Palpatine, Greta Thunberg and any oil company executive.
This hill is my nemesis. It makes me better, but does it ever frustrate me.
On a good day, I can make it to the top over the course of about 1 song on my playlist, say 3:30. On a bad day it might take me two. But recently I've noticed I'm improving because I can make it up the hill without stopping, whether it is fast or slow.
I've also noticed a change in my posture and general feeling towards this hill. I take a loop that goes through the magical forest, down a beautiful tree-lined trail, along the seawall, to the beach at the bottom, and then this hill is the tax I have to pay at the end to get home. It's not pretty, it's not that fun, the pavement is cracked and the street is not wide enough for all the cars that go by. I've had this feeling of begrudging acceptance towards this part of the route since I moved here.
Until today.
Something changed where I hit the bottom of the hill and suddenly felt so alive, so ready to perform at my best, that is was almost intoxicating. I cranked Lose Yourself by Eminem, and absolutely demolished this hill, setting a new record for myself in the process. I reached the top and instead of gasping for air, felt like I could turn around and do it again. Something about the persistent challenge of striving to do better, and knowing this is the hardest part of the journey, forced me to bring out my best and push myself.
There's something beautiful about this metaphor: the struggle is what makes us our best. Going further, it's not the flat, easygoing part of the journey that we remember or ultimately demands the most of us, it's the big inclines, where things get really hard, that we shine the brightest.
The lesson here is to embrace, and attack, the big hills in our life.
I've been feeling frustrated with one particular recurring meeting I have with our exec team, which often feels like a chance for them to beat us up for an hour. It clicked for me today that it's just the work version of the Dingle hill. These meetings are often where I am at my best, where the best of my work comes through, and even though I don't always shine the brightest or leave feeling my best, it is the struggle that makes me better.
So I need to keep reminding myself: don't shy away from the big hills. Embrace them. Attack them. Show them what you're made of, even on your worst days.
Because one of these days you're going to totally crush it, and you'll make it to the top a champion.