Ah, that wonder filled moment when you are suddenly strong. It might come in front of an audience when you say exactly what you want to say exactly the way you want to say it (ah, I miss that). It might come when you ace a test, finish a painting, or complete a composition. Sometimes it's a line down a snow covered cliff. For me today it was 20 miles on the Blur in a gear I would not have attempted except that it just felt right... I didn't need to shift. (But I always shift here...) My breathing felt even and rhythmic, and everything flowed. My back only voiced mild complaints. It's a sublime feeling - unexpected. I wish everyone could feel the equivalent more often, but rarity is what makes it so lovely. It comes unexpectedly sometimes, which strikes me as funny and reminds me how unaware I am even when I think I have a solid handle on my state and surroundings. It also comes after pushing - for years - to get to such a moment. It is not without great effort. There is no food, drink, drug, or ingestible equal to the reward you get when your body and mind sync and you are suddenly, unusually strong. Do the work, break the sweat, ignore the people calling you selfish, keep on pushing, and be grateful for it. Savor it. If I am lucky, when I am old, I will be able to remember such rare spikes in strength, my relative youth, and my health as I lay on my back with L4-L5-S1 crumbling. Hills fall behind me before I know it and wind and snowmelt water woosh past my helmeted head along with green and yellow mules ear, columbine, monkshood, paintbrush, lupin, snowplant, pink pussy paws crouched low to the dirt and flying by, with the buckbrush, pine and fir filling my nose and nothing else but speed, gravity and a trail in my wide watering eyes and a nearly indescribable tranquility on my smiling, grateful little mind.