Hey, good to see you again. Sit back, kick your shoes off and enjoy the story.

The afternoon was dry and sunny and the leaves on the trees were slowly beginning to change into golden fall colors. A warm breeze danced around me, teasing my hair and tugging at my t-shirt. It left a cool aftertaste on my skin; summer was coming to an end. 

I unclicked my right foot, stopped and took my sunglasses off; I wanted to get a look at what lay ahead of me.

I was in the middle of a mountain bike trail which snaked up a small mountain in serpentine turns and ended at a breathtaking view at the summit. I had my camera and a light snack in my backpack and I was planning on enjoying lunch on the bench I knew was up there and then taking some pictures so I could brag to my friends about how athletic I am. I knew the view would be lovely today, what with the dry, clear air and the colorful leaves. And I was looking forward  to my snack (banana bread with walnuts), but I knew that I first had to get up there, and right now I just wanted to get a good look at where I was.

I turned and looked behind me.
Up to now it had seemed deceptively easy; a gentle incline with a few carefree turns. Most of it had been shady, cool and green, the tightly packed dirt crunching approvingly under my tires. A small creek running beside the path had accompanied me much of the way, cheering me along with sounds of fresh water. But soon the creek had veered off away from the path, looking, I suppose, for more important things to do than urge a lone mountain biker on. I had continued on the path alone, dense undergrowth left and right and had enjoyed the silence of the woods, broken only by my breathing, the sound of my tires and the occasional watchful bird warning the others of my presence. The ride had thus far been undemanding and I was feeling pretty special.

I turned and looked ahead of me.
I could see that as the woods fell away, the rest of the trail grew steeper. It fought its way up the mountain, wasting no time to get to the top; gone were the long drawn out curves and the leisurely incline. The goal was the top and there was no other reason to take the rest of the trail than to reach it. I realized at once that it was going to be harder than I had thought.

I shook both legs out, cracked my knuckles and pedaled off, my eyes fixed on the top of the mountain.

Without the shade of the trees, the temperature became noticeably higher. After a while, I could feel beads of sweat gathering between my shoulder blades and running down my spine. My upper lip glistened. The gravel on the trail became looser; complaining and shifting uncomfortably under my tires as I rode. It made it difficult to maneuver the turns, which had become sharper. Gritting my teeth, I shifted to a heavier gear and continued. No longer willing or able to deal with the magnitude of the task, I pulled my baseball cap down a bit deeper into my eyes, blocking my view to the summit. I concentrated on the brown wedge of trail still visible and pushed forward.

The sun shined on gaily and the breezes stopped to watch me pass and my backpack settled deeper into the sweat on my back.

I continued my ascent. My legs began to fight for each meter gained, my fingers clenched on the handlebars. I lowered my head and concentrated on the white of my knuckles and the dirt directly ahead of my tire. I could see little stones and pebbles which had probably been pushed around countless times before by other bikers and inconsiderate hikers intent on reaching the top. They laid silently on the road, waiting for me to pass.  

I struggled on and wondered how far it still was to the top, but I didn’t look; I was afraid to find out. I concentrated only on the meter of earth before me and on the words ‘left, right, left, right’ which rang through my head and helped keep me strong against the weight of inertia which beckoned to me; calling to me, telling me to stop and rest, and to forget those great pictures and that banana bread nestled between my wet shoulders.

No! I gasped.

I bore down on the pedals, refusing to give in despite the burning in my legs and my lungs. I had no idea how far I had come or how much lay ahead. Left, right, left, right. I hated this sport. Sweat ran into my eyes, blurring the stones and the dirt and dripped from my chin. Push, push, push. Each meter was torture, my eyes fixed to the ground.

And suddenly, lightness.

There was no more up. I had reached the top. I unclicked my right foot, stopped and got off my bike. There I stood; dripping with sweat, legs shaking. I had made it. I was there. The summit had called and I had answered; the mountain was mine.  I stood, my pulse slowly returning to normal, and surveyed the valley below me. The view truly was magnificent from the top.

As I sat munching my soggy banana bread, I realized that it’s sometimes like that in life. Sometimes challenges become so vast and overwhelming that you can’t deal with them in their entirety anymore. So you pull your cap down and you concentrate only on part of the road, and you no longer look at the summit. But even so, inside you still know that that’s where you’re ultimately headed, because that’s where you want to go. That’s why you’re here. And if it gets harder still, then you lower your eyes again, and you concentrate only on the meter ahead of you. And you push on, and you accept each meter as it comes, and you don’t think about how far you’ve come or how far away your goal is anymore. But you still know that that’s where you’re going. Because that’s why you’re here.

And if you keep going, you reach your summit. No matter how steep the path, or how high the mountain. Because that’s why you’re here.

I smiled to myself proudly and finished my banana bread. It was time to take some pictures so I could do some bragging.

Happy biking,
Lisa

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