Not long ago, I rushed into my office after a hectic morning commute only to find the usually empty lobby packed.
Damn. I was already late. What was going on?
The building manager, surrounded by a crowd of anxious cubicle dwellers, was saying something about the elevators not working properly and only going to the 17th floor. I work on the 31st floor.
I took a quick glance at the long line of workers fruitlessly waiting for elevators and decided to try the stairs. Normally, I don’t take the stairs, but I had just ran a 13k. When I played sports, I tackled big, rugby-playing girls and skated through packs of people trying to knock me over. I figured I could handle a few stairs.
A few poor souls were climbing the stairs like me, trying to report for duty. People were tugging their rollerboard suitcases up the stairwell. Ladies in high heels and pantyhose were clutching the railings for support. Around the seventh floor, people started taking refuge in the corridors, gasping for breath.
As I climbed higher, fewer folks were taking the stairs. One fellow climbed the whole way to the 31st floor with me (my building is so large I don’t even know everyone who works on my floor). The climb only took about 15 minutes – we didn’t stop for air – but we were sweating by the time we reached the top. We high-fived each other when we reached our floor, like two soldiers who don’t know each other but have just survived a battle together.
Now, after months of distance running and weight lifting and thinking I was in pretty good shape, all it took was one staircase to cut me down to size. This was real-life fitness — a test of whether I could depend on my own body to get where I needed to go. And I was surprised to find that just climbing the stairs to the desk I sit at every day was difficult.
We’re always using wheels or conveyor belts to move our bodies – cars, trains and buses, elevators, escalators, the people-movers at the airport. We forget our own bodies are built to move. But it takes maintenance that we don’t always give ourselves.
After huffing and puffing up 31 flights, I decided to incorporate some stair training into my routine. I found a beautiful staircase in my neighborhood — San Francisco is famous for hills, after all — with a mosaic decorating the front of the stairs. As you climb higher, you move from tile patterns composing the ocean, complete with fish and clams, to the moon and sun. It’s challenging, but lovely. I also get a great view of the city when I reach the top.
One day, while I was climbing up and down the stairs, I saw an older man doing the same. But he was carrying a weighted backpack and lifting hand weights as he climbed. That’s a level of fitness I’d like to climb to.








Bad news, gym rats. According to some lab rats, exercise might not be as good for weight loss as you think.

