Finding My Local Hill
Jeff Garmire
I moved to Bozeman in January 2020 with plenty of goals. These goals involved vertical gain, pushing deep into exhaustion, and testing the will to continue. Finding a steep hill to train on was a priority. The steeper the better. The Bridger Mountains sit just outside of town and on the nearest face is a big letter “M,” standing for Montana State University and written with white stones. It is 250 feet wide and was created by students in 1915. The incline up to this feature seen for miles is steep, rugged and braided with multiple different ways up and down.
This would be my hill. In a half mile it is possible to gain 1,000 feet and the popularity of the trail leaves the snow packed down through most of the winter. So much suffering would take place on this hill.
It is rare to find a spot with so much gain possible in such a short distance. I did repeats on the hill, I grew to love it and grew to hate it. Every turn in the trail cemented itself in my mind as I logged endless miles on the same route. My weeks slowly increased to over 10,000 feet of gain, with much of it on this same half mile trail. There were spur trails, and slightly different routes so that I could alter each climb to stay sane, but as the winter progressed and my planned goals grew closer, I made myself at home on this trail.
Some days I would simply keep lapping the hill until I hit a predetermined amount of gain. Other days I would go up and down the same route for a predetermined number of hours. The Barkley Marathons and a record attempt at the Pacific Crest Trail were the reason and the fuel and this hill was the perfect spot to gain that fitness.
Sometimes it was snowy and other times it was muddy, but reaching the top was always possible. It was as if each trip up and descent back down became a notch in my belt. It was as though I were working toward the peak of my potential fitness.
I remember my first time climbing the hill and the view of the entire Gallatin Valley that stretched out in front of me. It was as if I climbed above my home city and could gaze out over it, studying all the tiny details of a place I hardly knew.
As my potential goals grew near, night laps became a part of training. I would show up at 9pm and lap the dang hill until after midnight. The workout was grueling, but the few moments I allowed myself to rest on the bench perfectly positioned at the top were peaceful. The stars of big sky country lit up the sky and the lights of Bozeman twinkled below. These training sessions were more than a workout.
The “M” trail wasn’t simply my training grounds, it became my comfort spot in a town that was new and foreign to me. As the pandemic hit and things began to close, my trail remained open. I could walk up the hill, or run up the thirty degree slope until my heart rate maxed out and wheezing ensued. My goals were canceled, but the ability to push myself at the one spot I knew as well as anyone could never be. The simple trail became a lifeline and a way to push myself into a new stage in life. It wasn’t about the strenuous physical nature of each lap, but the mental toughness that was forged by arriving back at the bottom and turning around to do it all again.
My trail isn’t the most spectacular, the most fun, or the most rewarding, but it is my trail and through each season I continue to go back whether I am training for something or not. It is the single place in town that I feel a strange draw and connection too. It is a trail looked down upon by many people and a popular spot for influencer photos, but for me it is simply the trail that offers everything I need and nothing more.
