The whole hill ahead

On a recent bike ride in Umstead Park with Danny, I was in the lowest gear pedaling up a slow sloping hill.  I could see the whole thing ahead and my thighs weren’t happy.  But I kept breathing and staring long at ferns in their natural habitat, glad to be surrounded by depth & quiet.

Then, a very winded jogger passed us.  Danny and I looked at each other, pushed the pedals around again.  A regular attendee of spinning class, Danny could’ve powered past me, the jogger, and the ladies on their horses a mile ahead, but he chose to support my haggard attempts at determination.  A good man will forget his bigger muscles and go slow.

I got to thinking about the visibility of struggle—how often we don’t see the hard road laid out before us, in advance.  People read their horoscopes, pay strangers to read lines in their palm so they can have a shallow grasp on the illusory future.  In some sick way, we want to plan our worrying schedule.

But, why (pray tell) did my lungs hold tight to stale air when I saw the hill I had to climb?  Why did I want to get off the bike and sit on a patch of moss? 

This moment made me remember the wornout adage: to live in the present.  Let life feed you one piece of rope at a time.  Climb it.  Then look out the window at a new view.  The tree reaches over the road towards a leaning back pine.  See it as peacemaking— the way we get stronger.  

xx Corrie Lynn