Climbing the Hill
For the past 20 years, The Hill has been my bête noire on every commute: A mile-long, shadeless, unprotected, windy monster to be slayed daily. Over time I’ve developed coping mechanisms to lessen its threat, such as chopping it into smaller pieces in my head. But although the mind could be tricked, the legs have always known the truth.
Change comes into every life, sometimes unexpected and sometimes planned. A new career has brought an end to the commute that was mostly idyllic but for that one mile. There will be no more ponds, no bucolic park and cemetery, but neither will there be The Hill. The monster died for the last time about a week ago.
Until today, that is, when I rode it again just for fun.