Having donned the persona of Biker Granny at the age of sixty, I have traveled miles of roads with the wind in my face. On such journeys I quickly learned to live in the moment–to experience the bend and sway of the road beneath my wheels–even as I cast my eyes forward to the road ahead.  What lay behind, I learned, is of less concern than how I ride my bike right now. The curves and bends; the potholes and the sudden patches of gravel that I have ridden through have shaped my riding, but are now past.  

The other lesson imparted when I donned my helmet and revved my bike was to celebrate every hill, every curve that I conquered. It was with those skills that I could face the mountains that seemed so impossible before.

Don’t worry about the bridges that lay ahead; nor the strong, gusty winds that blow across them. Such worry will not calm the wind. And, perhaps, when I reach that bridge the winds will blow gently upon me.