Bottoms, up

Took another long walk tonight. Slightly less romantic than the last.

I got a late start and it was dark most of the time. The weeds ate at my ankles. The dirt blackened my normally white tennis shoes.

Plus I decided to really push myself, to the biggest hill in town and back. It wasn't quite what I anticipated. It wasn't as easy as it was when I was fifteen.

It started fine. I let myself walk until I saw the slope. Then I told myself just jog up this one hill. Think how awesome it will feel when you reach the top.

Only problem was about three quarters up the hill it did NOT feel awesome. It felt really awful.

My already slow jog became more like a crawl. I wasn't convinced I'd reach the top at all.

But... I kept going. When it felt like I couldn't, I kept going.

And guess what? I made it. Pitifully. S-L-Ooooooo-W-L-Y. But I got there. And it felt pretty good.

I think lots of people get excited running down the hill. The momentum builds. The steps come easy. But not many people make it up the next.

They slow. And get discouraged. And often give up altogether.

I know 'cause I've been there. At the bottom of the hill staring up in fear. And partially up the hill,  wanting to give up.

In fact, I have given up. More than once, I have walked away. Turned my back on that stupid worthwhile, but daunting hill.

But I've also come back. And discovered there's joy in pushing through the climb. In reaching the top, and knowing that  when the next hill comes you'll be a little more motivated to keep on going.

Climbing hills makes us stronger. It brings us closer to the goal.

Here's to pushing forward.

*Wrote this Thursday evening. Thought now might be a fine time to share.