For a few weeks in February, I biked the hilly streets of Lake Havasu in Arizona.  I struggled up the streets, concentrating so hard I barely noticed the houses and yards.  At the top, I would rest and gathered up my courage before I could take the steep plunge down.  Each time I was sure I would take a tumble and fall.  But I never did.

Back home on level ground, with both feet beneath me, I slipped and slid.  My feet flew out beneath me.  I hit the snow-covered ground.  My head snapped up and then banged on the hard ice.  My jaw opened and shut.  I felt indescribable pain reverberating through my head.  I moaned and writhed in the snow.  I heard Sheba whimpered near me.  I was sure I was dying but I didn’t.

Just now I tried a session of nail trimming/grinding with Sheba.  She was good with the muzzle and leash, but no way was she going to have a pedicure.  So I failed – today.

Tomorrow is another day.  And I have as much spirit as my furry baby.  It is a little worn out and limp lately.  Life seems to be full of cares and people needing caring.  But I know I still have it in me all the same.  I can still rise and shine.  I can triumph.