another hill

I've rediscovered the joy of riding my bicycle!

Sure, it's great exercise, but the exhiliration of speeding along in the open air is really quite addicting. Add the green explosion of this cool mid-summer scenery and the wildlife -- yesterday I saw three deer and a hawk -- and I'm taking rides whenever I can and enjoying every single minute.

Except for the hills.

My aunt Carol, who lives in upstate New York around the northernmost tip of the Appalacian mountains, laughs when I groan about "the hills." For her, it's nothing to turn the corner and face a road vaulting at a 45 degree incline. As for me, I'm still getting used my village's many undulations, and I've lived here nearly 7 years.

The hills in my neighborhood are due partly to some glacier pattern thing and partly to the proximity of the Fox River. In fact, the flatlanders who bought the land for developing probably thought they had found some kind of anomaly, since they name it "Hillhurst."

The hills are one of the reasons why I didn't ride my bike much for exercise over the last 7 years. Too intimidating. Too exhausting. I was too out of shape. Not to mention the kiddie trailer then bike tandem that has been attached to my bike for God knows how long. One looks kind of silly riding solo when the wheels are definitely meant for more than one passenger.

But now I'm learning to love the hills. For one thing, what goes up must come down, if not in the next block, but down the road. The struggle is worth it for a brief but refreshing period of coasting.

The hills provide me with a variety of challenges. Some are exceptionally steep but short, requiring a burst of energy, sometimes with me standing on the pedals and grinding away. Others seem to go on at a steady incline for days, leaving me to feel as if there is not enough oxygen in the world and as if my muscles will simply explode out of my skin before I reach the plateau.

It's the latter hills that get me. I've learn not to fixate on the top of a hill like that, because it always seems like I'm getting nowhere. Instead, I focus on a point about 2 feet or so in front of my bike, only occasionally lifting my eyes. It seems to shift my perspective from how much farther I have to go to how far I've come. It helps me to make necessary adjustments in my breathing, to more carefully space out the downshifting.

Lately I've been contemplating on this method as a metaphor for life. God knows I tend to fixate on a point on the horizon, ignoring what needs to be done in order to get there and obsessing on the celebration when I arrive.

Like right now, for example, as I search for full-time employment. Every position I find provides a temptation to daydream about what life will be like having that job, that money, that commute, those responsibilities, etc. when I really need to be tailoring my resume, writing a cover letter, applying online, etc.

I need to focus 2 feet in front of me, shift judiciously, focus on my breathing, and do what needs to be done. It helps make the journey -- and even the hill -- much more enjoyable.