This damned hill is deceptive! It didn't look bad,
But halfway to the top, I discovered I had
Been mistaken; thighs ache as though pierced by a spear,
As I grimace and shift to a granny-low gear.
Dripping sweat, thirsty, wheezing and gasping for breath,
Vision dimming, chest pain – am I flirting with death?
But at last I arrive at the top of the crest,
And look down at the kind of a trail I like best:
Rustic singletrack switchbacks with tight U-turn curves.
With an ear-to-ear grin now, my trike swoops and swerves,
Building speed, braking hard, leaning into tight turns,
And enjoying the thrill a steep climb often earns.
As my tadpole zooms down like a runaway train
And the oxygen flow is restored to my brain,
I remember a thought that I'd had on the climb,
Which got tabled by dealing with stress at the time;
My more functional mind now thinks: IS it good sense
To endure grinding climbs for steep curving descents?
If you take a quick pause to assess and compare
Normal life to a trike ride you'll see that they share
Something basic – a tradeoff between 'ups' and 'downs'.
We work hard for vacations, do things wearing frowns
We expect (or just hope) will result in big smiles,
Like a TaterTOT trip entails long, dull road miles.
As the path leveled out, smooth and flat past backyards,
I decided the efforts are worth the rewards.
This is not esoteric, not very profound,
But I'm hoping its rhythmic, mellifluous sound,
Makes it worth a quick read for you folks who enjoy
Seeing language employed as a light-hearted toy.
Bottom line, this synopsis in one single line,
(And I think you'll concur. If you don't, well, that's fine.)
Riding trikes, much like life, is about compromise.
As I look up ahead now, the trail starts to rise...