Let’s complain about the hills at JMU
I had always assumed that for every uphill there is a downhill, but not in Harrisonburg
Harrisonburg is great in a million ways, but the vertical masses of land I have to climb everyday is not one. Sure, maybe my butt has been lifted to the heavens and my risk of heart disease has been cut in half, but at what cost? Although I’m a strong advocate of “The Shave Down JMU Campus Bumps Initiative,” I realize that it won’t go into action until at least 2019 so the next best thing is to fester in my hatred of the unintentional exercise I’m put through constantly.
Please join me as I make a list of JMU and Harrisonburg’s most demonic inclines.
The Godwin Stairs
When I walk from Stonegate to the Quad I start panicking in the arboretum about the Godwin Stairs. I’m not being dramatic when I say that climbing them is like climbing Mount Everest but harder and colder. What was once a wonderful phone call with my mom on the way to class turns into a fight for my life as I’m faced with the decision of continuing the conversation or using my remaining oxygen to stay conscious. By the time I get to the top of the stairs my left lung has collapsed and I’m pondering if life is worth experiencing let alone class.
The Port Republic Hill
Luckily when you get off campus everything is fine. That was sarcastic and if you didn’t realize that I hate you. It’s obvious that I’m an optimistic person so I don’t feel too guilty when I say that jogging in Harrisonburg is as easy as solving a math equation after lobotomization. All I want to do is go on a nice run without a percent of incline but the Port Republic Hill says: “Nah home slice, you’re gonna blow chunks today.” I’m not trying to make things seem like too big of a deal but after running to the top of the Port Republic Hill from campus, my organs start to malfunction. Have you ever sprained an artery? You will if you try running up that thing.
The Neff Hill
You know what’s cool about Neff? It’s an acronym for “No, Eww F*** F***.” I don’t know who’s responsible for these hills but they deserve nothing short of twenty years in solitary confinement for the pain they’ve inflicted on me. Again, I enjoy the occasional light jog, so when I have to run up a right angle no matter which way I go out of Stonegate, I feel tricked. I don’t believe it’s too high maintenance for me to expect the city planner to flatten this hill for me because I’m sick of people mistaking my daily jog for an epileptic fit just because I have trouble going up hills.
I had always assumed that for every uphill there is a downhill, but not in Harrisonburg. In Harrisonburg, you go up a hill and turn around and somehow it’s still uphill. Life is too short not to complain about how horrible my life is so thank you for joining me on this journey of incline loathing. Good night Harrisonburg.