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crossing the state After work this morning, I rode a different bike trail than the one I usually ride by my house. It wasn't the first time that I had taken it, but the last time that I was on it was probably four years ago. Part of me remembered that the trail climbed in height when riding west, but having that knowledge didn't make me stop wishing that it would level out sooner than it did. Each time that there was a bend in the trail, I was convinced that at the top there would be a break from the incline. Then once I rounded the turn, I was met with disappointment every time. Sigh. When the trail finally did level out, I had gone six and a half miles and was very proud of myself. Not once had I stopped for a rest and throughout the ride I kept a steady rhythm going with my legs. I even managed to take in some of the scenery as I muttered to myself about what I was doing. Naturally on the journey back I pushed myself as hard as I could to take full advantage of the reverse effect. Going downhill felt much more confidence building than going uphill. ... Lately to and from work, I've been listening to Bruce Springsteen's album Darkness on the Edge of Town. I have had the disc for years, but since I prefer Nebraska to it I tend to listen to that one more frequently. Despite my fondness for that solo effort, I can't deny the appeal of the song The Promised Land. Who can deny the power of the following lyrics? "The dogs on main street howl `cause they understand
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