On top of Independence Rock

Today, I climbed a mountain. Well, it probably only qualified as a hill. I’m not sure it was ever measured by an Englishman. But, it was a mile-high masterpiece for me. I’m not particularly athletic. (If any of my siblings are reading this, they are now lying on their respective floors, holding their bellies, and howling with laughter over that understatement.)

I’m telling you, I could feel the plaque rushing out of my arteries as we climbed. And I was thinking what an amazing feat for someone who lacks only six months of qualifying for the senior citizen discount at fine dining establishments and movie theaters. I was jazzed!

Lately, I’ve been uncomfortably aware of my age. I always thought I’d age gracefully and embrace the autumn season of life with all its benefits and glories. Instead, I’m noticing how quickly I wear out every day. I’ve been a little worried that maybe I really have gone over the hill and I’m on the downward slide in life.

But not today!!! Today I climbed straight up that hill and stood on the top, braced against the wind. (Well, Wendell braced me, but I stood.) It ย was thrilling and encouraging and made me believe I still had other goals to reach.

I came off that rock feeling forty years old! So, I decided to race our five-year-old granddaughter on the perfectly smooth sidewalk on the totally flat ground of the nearby rest stop. Fortunately, I didn’t break anything in the fall.

Here’s to more mountains!!!