by Ashley Holston

I went for a bike ride yesterday
and I thought of you.

Breeze on my back, sun on my skin.
Incline ahead, I brace.
Feet to pedals, I stand and push,
resisting the pressure of gravity.

I felt my knees creak.

Like your mom,
(like my Grandma):
Hand to railing, slow steps up,
and slow steps down.
Pace yourself,
for with age comes wisdom and weakness.

I pedal and I push,
measured breaths to match the intensity
of carrying my own weight on wheels,
up and up a hill.

I felt my knees creak.

Daddy would massage your legs,
and I remembered that as my own legs swelled
with matching veins,
bearing the weight of kids
one, two, three, four times over
(but two times less than you).

Increased intensity
the closer I get to the top.
Not pain,
not yet.
But tension. Pressure. It's there.
It's here
and switching gears on my handlebars
is no longer sufficient to take it away.

If 30 already brings the aches of age,
then what of 40, of 50, and beyond?
The inescapable sting of the fall
and of genetics
makes me wonder what my years will bring.

I felt my knees creak.

The pressure relieved as I reached
the top,
the peak,
the crest,
But hilltop moments are just that,
and the descent came
far
more
quickly
than the work it took to get there.

The temptation to press the brakes
is all too strong.
This is happening so fast!
I want to enjoy the top, the hill, the breeze, the views,
the mountain top experience!
Slow down! Slow down?

But aches and pains didn't stop
slow movements on staircases, and taking steps
no matter the pace
still counts for something.

Aching legs welcome a healing touch
that forges deeper soul bonds,
and swollen veins borne from birthing life are marks
of maturing, of motherly care.

Broken bodies utter hopes and groans for
glorious immortality,
and faulty genetic lines are but strands of humanity
to call to mind the bloodlines we hold dear.

Knee creaks aren't so bad.

I relax into the mercy of a downward slope,
extend my legs,
straighten my bent knees.
No need to pedal,
and also no need to brake.
I rest and enjoy.

Another hill will come.
Pressure, tension, resistance awaits. Alas,
it is already here.

But so is rest,
so is reprieve,
so is the reminder that this broken body will be made
whole,
that the broken One makes whole,
that creaky knees are made strong enough
to stumble their way into glory.