I’ve almost reached the top of the dirt and gravel road that makes up the work-out section of my ride. One more small hill and I’ll be able to catch my breath while gliding along a level path to where the trail turns back down to the canyon floor.

Ever since my first ride up this trail, I’ve pushed myself to reach the top without stopping, just to say I did. At each of the short steep sections where I crank through in first gear, heart pounding, lungs working overtime, legs feeling the strain, I would remind myself that I was one-third there or half way there or only one or two hills from the top, and this would keep me motivated to not give up, would keep me pushing on.

And when I reached the end, when I pushed over the top, I would have the satisfaction of knowing I had done it. I would have the reward of a well-deserved rest. And I would have the thrilling trails down into canyon waiting to reward me for pushing all the way up.

Today was no different. Until I happened to glance over my shoulder and down at the valley below me. Green leaves are just beginning to roll out of bud in the lower elevations and the quantity of green glowing between buildings, homes, and gray streets took me by surprise. The sight began a slow, steady flood of memories and emotions from summers past.

I found myself looking over my shoulder almost constantly then, glancing down and the green valley. My front tire bounced over rocks that I failed to steer around and when I reached a level spot next to the road, I pulled off and stopped.

"What’s the big deal about making it all the way up without stopping?" I asked myself out loud. Anyway, I was almost there. I already passed all the hard parts and could have done it easily.

Staring out over the valley and lake, the warmth in the air, the cool breeze cooling the sweat dripping down my face and chest, the quiet in the air…this was far better than continuing non-stop up the road.

That’s when I first realized I have been doing it all wrong in other areas of life as well. I thought over the past three years since I moved to this valley wondering what I have to show for the thirty six months gone by.

Plenty, really. I earned a pair of professional licenses, wrote and published a book, taught over 500 students at the college, climbed numerous mountains and made dozens of wonderful friends. Still, even with all that, I don’t feel satisfied.

I’ll be starting my new job traveling the world and and training groups in August. The job pays twice what I earned as a teacher and I’ll finally be able to pay the bills. Will I "arrive" then? Will I finally make it over the top? Will I finally feel satisfied then?

Maybe I will, maybe not. Either way, an idea is growing in my mind. A plan. A change of heart.

Here it is: if life is really a journey and not a destination, then I will stop focussing on "arriving." I will quit worrying about having enough to get by. I will take one step at a time, one mountain at a time. I will enjoy each day, stopping to take in the view whenever it presents itself. I will stop telling myself "I’m one-third they way there" and start taking more notice of where I am now. I will get over strict adherance to ultimate goals. I will get over "the top."

Is it possible? Will it work? Will I learn to enjoy life more, is this the secret to living right? I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.