One of the most beautiful views in the country sits just north of the Golden Gate Bridge, atop a 900 foot peak known as Hawk Hill. The steady climb winds up into the Marin Headlands, leaving the bridge and the SF skyline behind, revealing the sparkling edge of the Pacific Ocean in front. It’s an unbelievable destination, and you’ll see dozens of runners, hikers, and tourists winding along the switchbacks 365 days a year.
But Hawk Hill is most notorious among the Bay Area cycling community. For those of us who ride bikes, it’s the measuring stick we use to determine how fit we are, the difficulty of other climbs (“How does it compare to Hawk?”), and to compare ourselves to other riders. The climb is tough, but accessible enough that anyone can do it. It weeds out the most novice of riders, and is conveniently close enough to SF that cyclists can attempt to break their personal bests frequently. And while the ride is definitely a challenge, the breathtaking views make it easy to love the agony.
The funny thing about Hawk Hill is the view looks better on the way up. There’s something about the way the sun hits the hillside, the bridge protrudes from the water, and the city fades into the distance that seems more magical when climbing to reach the top. It might sound crazy, but it’s true. The most gorgeous part of a very difficult ride coincides with the exact moment when you’re struggling the most.
On a recent training ride I was thinking about this apparent contradiction. How could the most difficult part of something be the most enjoyable at the same time? The idea seems counterintuitive, since most of us associate fun and enjoyment with ease and relaxation.
But in thinking more about it, it’s often when things get tough that we’re the most engaged. Our talents are tapped to their fullest potential because problems need solving, quick action is needed, or brute force is required. Working through these situations allows us to have an impact, but also shapes who we are. True greatness comes from embracing these moments of difficulty, since nothing worthwhile comes easily.
In a recent GQ profile, Stephen Colbert described how he views the act of writing comedy for a nightly talk show 200 days a year. While most people only see the end result, great comedy doesn’t just happen. It’s a process filled with failure after failure, until the right jokes materialize. In order to get to this point, the comedian has to enjoy the process of creating comedy, dedicating themselves to the act with focus and intention in the moment.
According to Colbert, “the process of process is process.” In other words, success is not about the end result or destination; it’s about embracing the process with intention.
“But wait, isn’t it more enjoyable to look back on the tough times when they’re over? How is struggling through a painful process possibly more enjoyable than the final result?”
The final result can be a blast, but that’s not the point. The idea is that without focus and intention throughout, the end result won’t consistently be as good as it could be.
For example, those who ride Hawk Hill could grind the whole way up, never lifting their head to take in the scenery around them. When they arrive at the top they’ll see amazing views, for sure. But on the way back down they’ll have to concentrate on the road in front of them, since the descent is steep. They won’t be able to fully take in the bridge and skyline, since they might injure themselves or someone else if they get too distracted. In the end they will have enjoyed the view less than they could have if they were fully engaged with their surroundings during the tough climb to the top.
When I look back on my days playing sports in high school, “the outcomes” are never what I remember most. It’s the process, the struggle, the sacrifice. It’s the cold days spent in the muddy trenches, where you catch yourself looking up at the sky and smiling as the rain soaks every part of your body. There’s simply nothing you can do to make the situation more comfortable, so you might as well embrace it. You concede to the moment and decide to enjoy it.
Just like the cyclists who understand the best part of riding Hawk Hill is the way up.
And the best comedians, who embrace failure and learn to love it.
Recognize that only great things can come from focused intention. Don’t just put up with the process, but relish it.
The next time you’re in the midst of something hard, dig into it. Enjoy it.
Because really, that’s all there is.