On my run Saturday, I painfully dragged myself up the long hill that’s always the hardest part of my route.  I was trying to take it easy--I still had two weeks of vacation lethargy and Parisian wine making my muscles flabby and my will weak--but I wanted to beat that hill.  I always know that I haven’t completely let myself go if I can beat the hill.

Once I did, I breathed a sigh of relief and turned right to begin the descent back down to where I lived.

But a voice shouted at me.  It was loud enough that I could hear it over Trent Reznor caterwauling in my iPod headphones.

“Don’t give up now!  Take the stairs!”

I turned around, and a brunette girl was effortlessly bounding over the hill that I had just painfully climbed.  I said, “Heh?”

It was confusing. Runners don’t talk to each other. They run past each other and exchange a look that says “Hey, how are you. I’m a runner, and I am acknowledging that you’re a runner, and collectively we are totally better than bikers, yoga enthusiasts, and mud wrestlers combined.  I now bid you adieu.” The look says all this.  It’s true.

I was about to continue on my way, but I got curious. “What stairs?” I shouted at her.

“These stairs!”

She started running up a long concrete staircase. I had seen those stairs in the many years I had taken this run, but I always assumed that they belonged to a private residence.  Plus, this was always as far as I had climbed; I always turned around and jogged home from this point.

“Aren’t those private stairs?”

“No!  Come on!”

She seemed to be floating up the steps.  I, on the other hand, slowly pounded my way through them as though I was trying to run up a down escalator. But I could see she was right: the concrete steps ran between two houses, a public staircase that allowed people to quickly shoot up the hill.  It was like being in a real-life game of Chutes and Ladders.

And at the top, a gorgeous, gleaming view of Oakland almost made me forget that people were probably shooting guns at each other down below.

My tour guide quickly made a left hand turn and continued up yet another flight of concrete steps. At that point, my will flagged and I continued on down.  But today I ran up both flights of steps. And the view was even better at the top of the second one.  And I’m very glad to know that they exist, and I’m very glad that someone took the time to show me that no matter how well I think I know an area, and how exhausted I might be, there’s always a way to reach the next level.