I’m biking south on Elmwood Street to meet a friend for coffee. But as the pedaling gets harder, I remember how Elmwood Street climbs, slowly and relentlessly, all the way up to the Commons and the coffee shop.
And I feel out of shape and determined to not get off and walk. Until I do. Darn. Why is it, I wonder, that a long, slow climb is so much more difficult than a short, steep climb? It seems like it should be the other way around.
And as I push my bike up the hill, it occurs to me that the same principle applies in life. There have been so many long, slow climbs like completing my education, earning a living, raising a family, along with figuring out what I believe and how to love and forgive.
Most of us can rise to an occasion, can find the energy for an hour or a day. But to keep going for months or years takes more than energy. It takes endurance and commitment.
The short, steep climbs can be exhilarating — like love affairs or white-water rapids — and I wouldn’t have missed them. But it’s been the long, slow climbs that have taught me who I am and made me stronger.
Even if I have to walk my bike sometimes.
Writer Karen Anderson lives in Traverse City.
