The Hill I Never Want to Climb

Every morning I wake up with two options:
Drive to school, or walk to school.

Driving involves traffic and traffic lights, pedestrians and a parking lot nowhere near my office.  It is almost always a bit of a hassle, and almost always lines my soul with a layer of crankiness that pervades my day.

Walking, however, involves tree-lined streets, quiet, and birdsong.  It is almost always lovely, except for what I have come to call:

 The Never-Ending Hill.  

Twisting, winding, steeper than it looks.

It goes on.


Forever.

Every morning I wake up and think about that hill, and by the time I leave my house, lock the door, put away my keys, and get myself out to the driveway, I have usually decided to dig those keys out again:  It's a day to drive.

Driving is easier, see.  And my day is so hectic, and involves such a scattering of places to be and people to see and things to do, that if I have my car parked 20 minutes away in the parking lot as opposed to 30 minutes away in my driveway, it just seems like my life is more organized.  Like I'm not unraveling, quite so much.

But really? It's that dang hill.  It sits in my subconscious.  It taunts me with its inevitability, and laughs at my lack of control over it, 'cause there ain't no way around it:

If I'm walkin', I gotta face that hill.

Now, this past week has been one of internal upheaval.  The kind of week where my brain is just a riot of anomaly, and I do not know how to dig myself out.  The kind of week where all I can see are hills that I would do anything not to face.  And so every single day, when confronted with the choice of walk or drive and wary of unraveling, I chose what felt easier: I drove.

Until this morning, when I looked myself in the eye and said
"Girl! You're walking.  Don't even think about that hill, and don't be such a baby."

So, ok.

I walked.

I drank in the air, the sunshine, the birdsong.

And I was reminded of something that I already knew, but conveniently tend to forget:

 That hill is not really all that bad.

Most of the time I get so consumed in my thoughts, my prayers, my music, or my phone conversation that I get to the top and I say,

"Wait! What just happened?  Am I done? Is it over?"

And it is, and I'm fine.  In fact, I feel better--because I am aware of the blood in my veins and my cheeks feel cool and warm all at the same time, and I know that I'm alive.

So today, as I trudged up that hill with my earphones in my ears, my thoughts buzzing around my brain, my blood pumping through my veins, I realized something that I need to remind myself to remember:

The hill always looks big.  The climb may not be the most fun.  But--put your head down, and walk it.  It might not be as bad as you think it will be, and when you reach the top you might just feel better.  And though it doesn't mean it's over---there are a few more little hills before you reach your office, and then there are a few bigger ones on your way back home--it may just mean you're living.

And in the end?  Sometimes you've gotta make the choice to face that hill, 'cause there ain't no way around it.  Just remind yourself to remember: you will be fine.