Hills

Sometimes (just sometimes) when I plan my route I try to skirt around as many hills as possible. And sometimes things don't go quite the way I envisioned.

There's one particular hill a little south of me that always gives me problems. It's not even that bad, really. The road is carved into the side of a small mountain that overlooks some coastal farmland. I take a "what goes up must come down" attitude and turn early to make my way through the farmland to the other side of the mountain.

The road ahead of me is flat as... something really flat. For those of you who don't know, I can't come up with solid comparisons on the spot - note the time I told the telephone support lady, "The letter 'A' as in... aardvark."

I was glorying in the flatness of the road when suddenly I turned a corner and found myself staring at a road that closely resembled a wall. Straight up. No shoulder. Praise God there wasn't a lot of traffic on the road - then again, why would there be - and the few cars out there chose to stay behind me (just in case I toppled over or started rolling backwards). Suffice to say I was wheezing once I reached the top.

But yesterday, I decided that sometimes (just sometimes) when I plan my route I'll put the hills in on purpose. I did a nice 50-miler that basically consisted of 3 epic uphills, and each uphill was followed by it's own epic downhill. Each time I rode up I kept thinking to myself how zapped I was, and how I was going to give up and head home once I reached the top. But after every downhill I felt totally refreshed and ready for the next hill.

Sometimes I have to push through those rough uphills in order to experience the epic downhills. Sometimes I have choose to tackle the hills rather than stay on the comfortable farm roads. And I trust God will show up big, sustaining me all the way to the top and strengthening and refreshing me on the flip side, preparing me for whatever comes next.