Over the weekend, I did my first hill ride in a long time. I was worried. I wasn’t sure I could still do it. I was afraid my hands and forearms would fail. I wondered if the hills would have me back.
I lived. It was not my easiest ride ever and I was even slower than usual. I got sore and tired. But I remembered some things I had forgotten.
One was the joy. Sometimes it was about glorious downhill speed. At my favorite view spot, it was the joy of coming home to a place of my heart. And then there was the deer browsing at the edge of the road who let me come within six feet before retreating just a little farther away.
Another was flow. There were plenty of hot and sweaty moments with inner swearing (outer swearing takes too much breath sometimes), but there were the times that I found the place of just enough effort to do the job with none wasted.
May we all find joy and flow in what we do.