The Ben Franklin Bridge became my Mt. Everest.
I spent three years running around center city Philly at lunchtime. Starting at the gym at 15th and Arch, I could explore the Rocky movie sites, historic district, Penn’s landing, University City, the sports complex (watched the Eagles a bit during training camp), boathouse row, and even had a few scary moments. It was awesome.
But there was no hill. If you’re training for an event, and I often was, you need some hill work.
I found the solution while running along Penn’s Landing at the Delaware river — the bridge! The Ben Franklin Bridge is a mile-long, majestic, arching hill over the river. Perfect.
So on my next run, I set out for the bridge, feeling a bit smug with my brilliant idea.
Approaching as a pedestrian is tricky because it hosts seven Vine St Expressway (I676) lanes, commuter rail from Jersey to the city, and the pedestrian walkway. There’s a lot going on, but you can find the walkway entrance on the south side, just past Franklin Square and behind the National Constitution Center.
The pedestrian walkway sits about 20 feet over the rail, above, and outside the roadway. When on it, you can’t see the road or rails unless you lean over the railing. As I crossed the first time, I approached the crest of the hill and mindlessly peeked over the way-too-short outside railing.
High (135 ft) — check .
See straight down — check.
Mistrust the safety equipment — check.
Instantly my knees turned to jelly, and my brain locked up. I froze, put my arms out like I was walking a tightrope, tip-toed my way to the inside girder, and hugged a light pole like a long-lost relative.
What the hell was that? But I couldn’t help it.
I can only imagine what this looked like to the others on the walkway. Not surprisingly, a few passers-by gave me plenty space on the way by.
Now what?
I composed myself, turned back toward the entrance, and shuffled the almost half-mile back off the bridge with my hand on the inside girder. Head straight. Eyes forward. Hug the railing.
I was flustered and more than a little embarrassed but also determined. I wasn’t going to let it beat me.
So over the next weeks and months, I kept trying it. Eventually, I made it over. It wasn’t pretty — head straight, eyes forward, hug the inside railing. But I did it.
Over time and repetition, I got to the point where I could run along the outside and even take some quick peeks over the side. My knees still weakened, but the more I did it, the more I could control my mind. More than once, I did hill repeats.
The fear hasn’t left me, but I’ve learned how to cope and operate in the face of it. Here’s some proof of progress.
