We live up the hill. One of the highest spots in Lincoln. In hillier than you'd think Eastern Nebraska

That's caused me to think: For every hill you go down there is one to go up.

Recently my Dadometer indicated the oldest needed some time alone & it was the perfect evening for a bike ride.

Tearing out ahead of me he shouted, "I'm gonna beat you, Daddy." Here & there around the neighborhood streets we went. Then we left the pavement behind. Downhill into the tree farm on dirt paths we plunged. My boy was loving it. "Wooo-oo-oo-ooo," he exalted in bumpy path vibrato.

Turning uphill I led reminding him we could enjoy the view from the top. Yet halfway up I heard it. Words indistinguishable. Tone clear. Complaining about the hill. My boy stopped.

Back downhill we went. His smile returned. We pedaled toward another adventurous off-road spot. His tone changed exuberant. He hollered, "This is fun!" Reaching the creek bottom, we rested a bit in the cool.

Then uphill we went. And, again, his tone changed. I began to instruct: it is harder going uphill; we shift gears; keep pedaling; accept slower forward progress; but we keep going; we get there.

When we reached to top of Captain Underpants Hill - yes, thats the name my kids have given a statue on a hill nearby our home - we stopped again. This time we needed a little lesson. Son & Father both had something to learn.

"Buddy you were having so much fun a few minutes ago. What changed?"

"The hill. I don't like the hill."

"I know it's hard to go up hills, but you made it up. You're here."

"Yeah."

"You gotta go uphill before you can go downhill, Buddy. Life is like that."

In a split second I'm thinking to myself, "Remember this the next time you are struggling with something, Mister Daddy Man. If you are gonna enjoy the downhill, you gotta work the uphill."

Life doesn't come equipped with ski lifts. Elevators or escalators either. Life does take plenty of work.