Johnson Road Hill

Holy Hill. And, yes, the quality of this photo is awful.
But it's from my phone and getting closer would mean
stopping at the bottom to take the photo. In other words,
no momentum for the climb. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid.

Today was the day.

This is Johnson Road. And it's not in the best of shape. It's out in the sticks and there's a rather pungent dairy farm on it. It's been on my bike route for the past month. I've been riding down it (toward you in this photo) and I'm always a bit on edge when I do.

I apologize for the quality of this photo ... it's from my phone and I tried to enlarge the hill part. I hope you can see that it's a steep mother, and flying down it the first few times scared me. I white knuckle my rear brake and pray for a few things:

1. That a car full of not-paying-attention texting, drunk kids doesn't crest the hill, come up behind me and not see me;
2. That my front tire doesn't get stuck in the horribly cracked pavement, launching me over the handlebars, and;
3. That a  rabbit or deer or snake or chipmunk doesn't decide to dart across my path and knock me ass over applecart.

So far, it's been OK.

But today was the day to turn the tables and climb the hill.

Every once in awhile you just need to stretch your limits and see what you can do.

Was it pretty? Nope. Did I use every single gear I have? Yup. Was I huffing and puffing and sweating profusely at the top? Hell to the yeah.

But I did it.

I gathered my courage. I psyched myself up. And I climbed.

And it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It almost got shorter and less steep as I got closer.

The feeling at the top is pretty nice, too. I did that. Just me. And my crappy knee. And my lovely quads. And the fire down deep inside that keeps me pushing forward.

Moral of the story? We're all capable of more than we think. And we never know just how much we're capable of until we try.

What is YOUR hill today? I think you can climb it.