Shortly after moving to the Monterey peninsula, just a year after giving birth to Siena, I decided it was time to get my post-baby body back in shape. Although I started exercising seven months postpartum, I was derailed when my husband Matt cut two fingers off his hand with a table saw, requiring 8 hours in the operating room and several follow-up surgeries to regain the use of his hand. By that time, the hip injury that still plagued me after giving birth had blown into an obstacle of epic proportion. Every time I walked even a few blocks, my left hip would flare up and radiate pain. But deep within, I knew it was time. Pain was only an excuse.

The first few hikes proceeded without major drama. Although my favorite trail required climbing a steep grade up to the top of a mountain that boasted a panoramic view, I discovered a way to skirt the long uphill, sticking to a flat, easy trail that left only a mild twinge in my hip. For weeks, I walked the flatlands, staring longingly at the top of the mountain, where I knew I would be rewarded, if only I had the courage and stamina to make it up the hill. But the past year had been so filled with pain- recovering from my C-section, losing my father to cancer, saying goodbye to my 16-year old dog, and dealing with Matt’s accident- that I couldn’t muster up the courage to face the pain.

Every day, I gained strength, walking faster and longer on the flat trail around the base of the mountain, looking longingly at the pinnacle above. That mountain stared down at me daily, taunting me, daring me to climb it, but I avoided it for months, passing it by in favor of the easier path. Until one day, when I got fed up with my fear of pain and decided to tackle it, once and for all. I gave myself permission to take all day, if need be, but one way or another, I was going to make it up that hill. I put flipped my Ipod to a righteous power anthem, hoping the beat would lift me up the hill, and I took my steps slowly, trying not to let the sharp pain in my hip control me. Every few steps, I stopped to rest, marveling at the changing perspective I had on the landscape as I slowly climbed higher and higher. One foot after the other, step by step, I made it halfway up the hill before the pain in my hip overtook me, and I gave up. Discouraged, I limped my way back down, hobbling the flat path back home.

It took me a few more weeks before I could bring myself to try again. Traipsing along the flat path at the base of the mountain, I gazed up to the spot where I had given up before. Disgusted with myself, I tried again. Step by step, one foot in front of the other, until I made it all the way to the top. After months of avoiding the long uphill, I had overcome it, in spite of the pain. And it was the worth it, not just for the view of the golden-green speckled hills, but for the feeling of personal triumph I had earned. The next day, I could barely walk, and it took me another week before I felt up to climbing the hill again, but I did it. And before I knew it, the pain in my hip lessened, until one day, I realized it had disappeared completely. Somehow, climbing that hill had cured something that doctors and physical therapists were unable to heal.



Now, more than a year later, I have to smile every time I round the bend of my favorite hike and face that hill. Instead of facing it with dread and trepidation, as I once did, I now begin the climb with a metaphorical roar. As in, “Here I come, hill. Get out of my way!” Every now and then, the hip yells out to me, to remind me that I’m no longer twenty-five and have to be gentle with my body, but now I see it as an insurmountable hurdle I’ve mostly overcome. Each time I climb that hill, I feel a little stronger, a bit more brave, my inner warrior letting out a rebel yell.

These days, I’m facing new uphill battles in my life, but instead of skirting around the hill, looking for the easy path, I’m trying to march right up the hill. It’s not that fear and pain have left me- I carry them with me up the hill every day. It’s just that I’m trying not to make decisions based on them. Rather than avoiding the challenge because I fear the pain, I’m hoping that facing it will gradually heal the wound underneath, the way climbing the hill helped my hip.

Most of all, I’m excited to see the view from the top, a view I can’t even imagine at this point. What will it look like? What will I discover, as I journey up this next hill? Where will it take me? How long will I have to keep climbing? But I learned another lesson from the hill. It’s good not to always focus on the pinnacle. Instead, you can turn around, every few steps, and enjoy the view as you go. Each step is a journey all its own, worthy of relishing and cherishing. You never know if another hill will lie just beyond the pinnacle, but the more you strengthen your muscles, the easier it gets to keep going.

I’m leaving my favorite hiking trail soon. I’m leaving Monterey to move to Marin County, where new hills await me. Just today, I stared up at Mount Tamalpais, which is much more steeper and more daunting than my hill in Monterey. After finally overcoming my long uphill, I have to admit, I’m hesitant to begin a new, more challenging uphill climb. But I know the experience will help me grow, and the view will be fresh and new, one I’ve never seen before but will make my own.