Last year, I moved to Calvin’s Knollcrest East (KE) apartments in search of freedom and a fresh start. With a heart full of excitement, I bid the dorms farewell and prepared myself for all the great things my newfound independence would grant me. However, nothing could have prepared me for the horrors of the KE steps.

For the unacquainted, these “KE steps,” as I have dubbed them, run outside along the western side of Theta-Epsilon, between the apartments and the forest-flanked East Beltline. A passerby would recognise the prairie-school-esque way that the stairs melt into the landscape, effortlessly gliding up the natural topography.

For a year now, my daily commute has taken me up and down the KE steps, through rain and shine. Those 40 steps have forced their way into my life, becoming the single biggest obstacle to my happiness.

You might ask, what problem could someone possibly have with a set of stairs? Well, these steps were seemingly designed with more consideration for the landscape aesthetics than ergonomics. Each step is neither one pace, nor two paces, but the ever-so-infuriating one and a half paces, leading each innocent traveller to adopt one of three techniques to ascend the steps:

1. The half-stair. Best utilized by the shortest among us, this technique involves stepping on each stair twice, resulting in an uncomfortable gallop up the steps.
2. The long step. Only available to those with longer legs, this technique requires one to extend the leg fully to the next stair with each step taken, resulting in an uncomfortably lengthy step and an equally uncomfortable gate.
3. The perfect stride. Only achievable with immense focus, some have been known to successfully ascend the KE steps with the perfect stride of alternating half steps, which, when perfectly timed, can result in an efficient ascent. However, this comes at a great risk. While attempting this technique, one can easily fall into the half-stair or long step, and run the greater risk of tripping and falling altogether. This is certainly not to be attempted in the ice, the dark, on the way to an 8 a.m., or in any other circumstance when one’s senses are otherwise inhibited.

These techniques, of course, only apply to the ascent of the KE steps. The process of descending is entirely embarrassing, if not dangerous. Nothing is worse than passing a friend on the steps, waving hello, and trying not to trip all at once.

As I think more about these steps and my time spent traversing them, I wonder what well-intentioned architect might have designed them. Did they ever have to endure the embarrassment they created? Hours spent in the Heritage Hall archives following leads through Manila folders and architectural plans have thus far turned up no such culprit to blame. 

To the builder of these steps, I hope you learned from your mistakes and went on to construct much more ergonomic steps for people to enjoy. Thank you for hearing my struggle and helping me let go of my frustration as I begin the process of forgiveness.