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.
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