Property of Stair Guy: Another twenty circuits of stairs in a single workout in the Bunker Hill Monument

Saturday 7/19/25

For the second time in five weeks, I did a record-tying twenty circuits of stairs in the Bunker Hill Monument. As I said, the Monument had been closed the previous two days because of the heat. I had my dentist appointment on Monday and did not run stairs at City Hall on Tuesday, so I'd been "off" since Sunday. Despite still having my cough and things rattling around my chest, I wanted to try and push things a bit.

As someone said, I should write a book about stairs. And what do you know, there's a press I've done a book for that also has a series about objects like stairs that I wrote a year ago. A series where I know the reasons why the people who did books in that series had them commissioned. A book I am more absurdly overqualified to write than anyone could be to write such a book.

Hmmm.

Upon my arrival, a ranger asked, "Five or ten times today?" I responded, "I'm feeling ambitious, so we'll see." Two-and-a-half straight hours of stairs. 12,000 of them.

It's and inevitable that on circuit seventeen there was someone who said to me, as though I was the same as them, "You made it!" when I got to the top, like it was my first and only time. People are so unobservant and narcissistic. But that's okay--on my next circuit, someone else said, "You're almost there, it's just around the corner."

Thanks, double-wide stair Sherpa.

Everyone wants you to be in their boat. As bad as they are. As dumb as they are. As lazy as they are. As mediocre--or worse--as they are.

This is vital to them. It's how they don't feel bad about themselves. Don't feel threatened or like they're under attack. Shamed. They might have some respect for the person not on their level in whichever way, but it's a very begrudging respect that is closer to hate, with envy mixed in, which bolsters the hate.

Outwardly, in the moment, they may say something begrudgingly positive, but inside, they're loathing you. Should they give more thought to you, they'll loathe you more.

We see this constantly with publishing people and myself. The hate isn't because of you doing anything wrong or anything to them. It's because you're so obviously not in their boat with them, which causes them to feel as I've said above.

There isn't a harder workout. And doing it in July means you must be doing okay. One of the hardest parts is the thirst. I have no water to drink when I do this. I don't leave the Monument. Even if I did, there isn't a water fountain in the lodge, and the museum across the street is now closed on the days the Monument is open.

I should ask if I could keep a water bottle on the window ledge of the lodge where I used to put the coffee I'd get before walking to Charlestown. I did that for years when Anthony's was still open. Set the coffee on the ledge, and do three or five circuits, retrieve the coffee and get back to drinking it. I could get some masking tape and label the water bottle "Property of Stair Guy" because often when I come back out there are different rangers working.

In the two-and-half-hours yesterday only two people asked me how many times I was doing it, which is unusual. One of them was this guy from Tennessee who had come with his son and who, for some reason, insisted on being first in line. I say for some reason because he had the big belly and the huge double chin. Wore a Tennessee football hat and a Tennessee football shirt.

I find this to be very common with guys from the South when they come to Boston. And these guys in this attire are normally huge. I would bet this man was like thirty-five but he could have passed for fifties. If I was someone like this, I wouldn't be asking someone else about fitness because I'd be embarrassed, but that's me.

It's interesting how people can think that something just doesn't apply to them. It's not relevant. Doesn't involve them. Like they're separate from it. Or a part of their life is over and they won't ever know it again and that's not just fine, that's a given, and how it's supposed to be, and says nothing about them.

Behind this guy in line was an even bigger guy, so they got to talking about the south. And the football. The Tennessee guy's kid looked like a miniature version of him. You could project how he'd become this guy later on. Before too long. He also had on the football gear.

On a day when I'm going to be in the Monument for a while, I'm less apt to make sure I'm the first one in. A certain amount of pacing yourself is necessary. It's a journey. You accept that you won't be leaving any time soon.

I wasn't able to drink anything until I got back to the North End. There's a playground--the one that Amelia liked so much last summer--on Prince Street that has a water fountain, and I set up shop there for a couple minutes. I was parched again when I reached the building, and then it's remarkable how much water you drink. Liters.

Did lots of stretching before getting started again. I'm up to 450 Monument circuits now since May 15. Fifty more to go to reach my goal of 1000 circuits in a year. Really starting to come into view.

The days in a row take a toll. Have a few days off, and you can do more that first day that you're back. Of course, the day after day after day consistency is the best way to go. There was a breeze yesterday, and enough of one that you could feel it coming through some of the openings on the landings.

And it wouldn't be a day in the Monument without some idiot father telling his kids that arrows were shot out of these openings, only this dad corrected himself to say, "Wait, they had guns by then, so they used these openings to fire their guns on their enemies."

It is amazing how many people think this is some kind of fort. A fort consisting of nothing but a narrow spiral staircase that goes up twenty stories. How stupid can you be? These remarks are issued with a sense of utter certainty. Fact. Gospel. The voice of God. Stupid people, making their kids stupider, so their kids can grow up to be as stupid as they are.

Then you have all of the people who say, "Remind me why we're doing this again?" at stair fifty. How lazy can you be? The amount of complaining. These people, obviously, are going up once. It's one and done for everyone who is not me. You won't even get some full-of-energy kid who decides to try it a second time while his parents are still recovering at the top.

The scores of excuses, too. People tap out around stair fifty. But it's never their conditioning. They make sure to say--loudly--that it's this other thing. They're claustrophobic, it's their vertigo. Whatever it has to be.

But it's almost always the same thing. Lack of fitness and overabundance of laziness. They can't own that, though.

You really do see this country and how people in general are now within the granite walls of this Monument. The ways of humanity come to you, as it were, if you're in there often. All of the people at the top with no regard for anyone else, no spatial awareness, who stand on that top stair. If you bump into them, they're apt to feel like some victim. Guys with rear ends the size of a buffalo hide do this.

A ranger did give me a sticker after I was done. They were giving them to everyone, but he said, "You should have one. After all, you're in there more than anyone," so I took it and put in on the back of my notebook.