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The Breeze

It's a haul . . . an uphill grade, one in which I pedal standing up on my bike. I relish the strength I've found in my legs, though I am sweating a river and panting for breath. My mind ignores any exhaustion and repeats only verses or songs to mix with my vision of being at the end of the street. I've climbed a bit farther this year, more than I've ever done in the past. I'm at the top, at least so I think, yet having reached that destination I find a bit more of a bend in the road to explore. But for now, I'm ecstatic for the progress I've made. The whole valley is spread out below me like green bumpy carpet surrounded with walls of blue sky and low puffy clouds. I sit and begin to coast down, down, down . . .

That's when it hits me, the coolest breeze whips right up against me. It's brisk and refreshing, and I can't get enough. I just want to breathe it in like a smooth summer drink. . .

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