Stepping Up.

In the ghost town of lock down I climbed the Durie Hill steps of breathlessness all one hundred-and-sixty of them at last count. There are platforms every ten steps or so where hold the handrail and assess my breathing: inhale deeply, exhale slowly. I miss out the lower platforms, keep moving on up. I check my heart rate on the pulse meter watch; it is about 60 beats a minute at rest, but it will be around 180 b.p.m. higher up. That's how I like it: I push myself to the limit. One day of the unloved lock down I was getting close to the top when I fancied I saw the concrete steps extending upward into the sky even to the heavens and I thought, like Jacob, 'Truly God is in this place and I knew it not, ' as I sprinted back down the street greatly assisted by gravity. -26/ 27 May 2020.