THE HILL GAVE ME A PRESENT--

It was a beautiful fall morning today with sunshine sparkling the yet colorful leaves and windless temperatures in the low 40s.

My mountain bike pushed our shadow obliquely up Rule Rd., as I measured the few feet I gained on the hill with each crank of the gears—and remembered the last three days.

I had not attempted this hill climb in the past two years having become a rider of the more genteel, recumbent variety this past spring. The benchmark of my 70th anniversary on this earth was rapidly approaching and I wondered...

...and successfully climbed the hill Saturday. But, I had to stop near the top while my respiration rate got itself under control.

Sunday, I made it non stop but the body threatened rebellion.

Monday, I had to stop again before the stop sign up near the ridge when I ran out of breath before leg muscle.

I wondered what would happen this day as I wandered the house, watching the slow rise in outside temperature while I stretched an aging body in a geriatric form of conditioning.

It was a good sign when I blew by the house with the mean little brown dog and he barked but remained seated. Was that his birthday present to me?

Then, I felt a tickle up my spine as I rounded the curve up near that old farm house where the road levels slightly then continues mildly sloping up toward the stop sign.

I gave thanks to God for the blessing of good health as I whizzed through a traffic-clear intersection bumping the gears up to the big chain ring and number 6 of 8 on the rear cassette. I enjoyed the sense of acceleration while I measured how much fuel there was left in the body’s tank.

It’s a soft climb from there for about a mile along the ridge and I dropped back a gear or two when the threat of mild, bodily rebellion returned.

I turned toward home and hoped God didn't mind as my thoughts turned toward spitting in the devil’s eye.