Kate Bush or the Hamster Wheel?

Why we like running up hills.

Mo Farah is famously a big fan of the treadmill. It’s one of the many reasons why Sir Mo is the most successful male track distance runner of all time - he simply loves to run. He is in his element spending hours upon hours pounding out a rhythm to the whir of a rubber conveyor belt.

I, on the other hand, will only dust off the treadmill in our garage if absolutely necessary. If the paths are dangerously icy, or I need to stay at home on an evening to keep an ear out for the kids, then I will occasionally plod out a few short miles on the hamster wheel.

The lack of visual stimuli and the absence of obvious physical progress make treadmill running a chore rather than a pleasure. Unlike Farah, the simple act of running is not quite enough for me.

The metronomic anthem Running up that Hill by Kate Bush has been a regular fixture on my ultra running playlist for some time, even before its recent surge in popularity thanks to its prominence in the hit Netflix documentary Stranger Things. (I was only 9 months old when Hounds of Love was released, just for the record). Not only is is a great song, but it describes, in my view, the best part of running - the hills.

In running terms I feel most content when I have a summit to aim for. I’ve done the Yorkshire Three Peaks a few times now and there is something just magical about setting your sights on the next hill, and the view that awaits. The process of battling up the steep climbs, reaching the trig point, pausing for a few brief moments to drink in the 360 degree views, then bombing (or ambling, more likely) back down the hill in search if the next summit - is just so life giving.

We call them hilltop experiences for a reason.

The view from the top of Whernside looking towards Ingleborough, with Pen-y-ghent in the background.

What is it about these moments that we love so much? Is it the connection with nature and the pleasure of being outdoors and seeing a bigger picture view of the world? Is it the sense of achievement after completing something really difficult? Is it simply the endorphins that surge around our body during and after a sustained high level of effort?

It’s probably a bit of all of these, but I also suspect there is a deeper meaning. I think we are exhilarated by running up hills because it connects us to our God-given purpose as human beings which was established at the very beginning of time. This is the instruction that God gives the first humans right after he made them:

“Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.” Genesis 1:28

The first part of the instruction is simple enough. Procreate. It turns our that we don’t need much encouragement to have sex so we’ve done quite a good job of filling the earth. High fives all round.

The second part of the instruction, to subdue the earth, is more curious. The Hebrew word for subdue can also mean to keep under. It’s an inversion of the next phrase which calls us to rule over creation.

At first reading this might jar with us as we wrestle with the destructive impact that mankind is having on our world. Moreover, our post-modern ears are highly sensitive to any suggestion of subjugation, because we associate it with misuse of power.

But the biblical model of rulership is entirely different. The invitation to subdue is an invitation to join God in his grand mission to renew and restore creation. He sets us above the rest of his created order that we might manage its chaos, wrestle with its wildness, and harness its disorder - just as a parent rules over a child in order to shape them for a healthy and meaningful life.

God is inviting us into a beautiful, creative, partnership.

To subdue the earth, then, is to observe its terrible wildness and to boldly step into the adventure to which it beckons us. To rule over the earth means taking hold of its resources and using them to design, innovate and create a better world. To keep the earth under us is to learn to navigate its chaos and to emerge at the other side alive, or better still, truly living.

You can’t do that on a treadmill.

When we run up hills we recall the reason for our existence. We show the world who is boss, even if we do it crawling on our hands and knees. We remind ourselves that we are designated, by God’s grace, to be co-rulers with Christ over all things. With each gravity-defying step we accept the challenge of God to place the earth under our feet and in doing so we are somehow enacting this ancient call to preside over the creation He made for us.

And as we pause… and take in the scenery… we are humbled by its vastness, aware of our tininess, and in awe of the God who has given us this playground over which to rule.