Sometimes climbing can be a struggle. Sometimes, as effort increases, pace decreases, and bringing the pedal over the top of each stroke is a deliberate and determined act of will. There are others times, however, in which climbing is satisfying work. It is a task with more than ample rewards.
The north Texas prairie grass is about knee-high now, and spring winds move across it in waves. Like an eager surfer, I look over my shoulder and see the swell rise hundreds of yards away. I see it approach before I feel it, and anticipate the exact moment the gust will arrive and thrust me forward.
In more tranquil times, I keep a steady rhythm. But instead of counting each monotonous revolution of the crank arms, I count the colors of wildflowers growing along the road.