Last Saturday, to celebrate my upcoming birthday, my husband, Clif, and I decided to go on a bike trek, from Farmingdale to Richmond and then back to Hallowell, where we would go to a pub called the Liberal Cup for fish and chips. Our daughter Shannon, her husband, Mike, and our friends Jill, Claire, and Sybil planned to meet us at the Cup for a celebratory meal. We would leave Farmingdale around 1:30 and be in Hallowell by 5:00.

All summer long, we have been preparing for a trek such as this. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, to mitigate the effects of being such a good eater, I have resolved to become a good biker as well. My husband, Clif, is also working to become a good biker. At the beginning of the summer, we started out gradually, first going four or five miles, then working up to ten miles, and finally going sixteen or seventeen miles, on a route with challenging hills. By the end of the summer, we were both comfortable with a seventeen-mile trek, and we were eager to try a longer one.

Our friend Jim Leavitt had recommended the ride from Hallowell to Richmond. It goes along the Kennebec River, and it is reasonably flat. Jim also told us of two side roads to take that would bypass some major hills. As it happened, those side routes dipped by the river and were two of the loveliest parts of the ride.

On Saturday morning, we woke up to a day that bikers dream about—warm, about 73, zero humidity, and with a deep blue sky dotted with friendly white clouds. It couldn’t have been more perfect. We drove to Farmingdale, parked the car, and after Shannon took pictures of us, we began our trek. We pedaled through Gardiner, past a stone library, and up two fair-sized hills. After those hills, we hit a stretch so flat, between Gardiner and South Gardiner, that we dubbed it “Indiana.” How we zipped on that stretch.

To the right, the Kennebec River sparkled and shimmered under the bright September sun. Asters, some dark purple and some almost white, grew so close to the road that they nearly brushed my arm. Crickets sang, and we passed neglected apple trees with small, red apples, a sweet, fleeting smell that was soon gone.

Over the Richmond line we rolled, and it was on to Richmond proper. The road became hillier, but there was nothing to intimidate us until we biked into town and encountered “the hill.” Well, going down was fun, and my hair flapped wildly under my helmet. But the fun was mitigated by the knowledge that soon we would be going back up that hill.

Trying to push that thought aside, we bought some iced tea and a peanut butter Moon Pie, and we sat at a riverside park as we ate and drank. We admired the narrow Kennebec River up close, and Swan Island, which seemed only a swim away.

But, there was no time to dawdle at a riverside park. We had to be back in Hallowell by 5:00, and there was that hill.

Now, I’ve been ridden up some challenging hills in Winthrop and Monmouth, but this is the hardest hill I’ve encountered yet. So steep that I nearly came to a standstill. So steep that it actually made me laugh. So steep that I had to rest in the little valley of the hill before the road dipped up again.

But we both got to the top of that hill, and back we went the way we came, through Richmond, South Gardiner, Gardiner, Farmingdale, and finally to Hallowell. We were only fifteen minutes late when we made our triumphant entry into the Cup. Shannon, Mike, Jill, Claire, and Sybil were waiting for us inside, sitting around a long table, and they cheered when we came into the room. I’m sure we had cheesy grins on our faces. I really can’t remember the last time anyone cheered for us.

The fish and chips that night tasted better than they ever have. Somehow, the chips were crisper and the fish extra flaky and moist. I suppose having pedaled twenty-eight miles had something to do with the deliciousness of the food.

Nevertheless, it was one of the best birthday celebrations I have ever had. It was especially meaningful because a few weeks ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’ll be going in for surgery the day before my birthday. My prospects are very good—tests indicate that the cancer is slow growing and nonaggressive—but it is still a scary thing to face.

“How odd to have such a wonderful birthday,” I mused, “when I’ll be having surgery soon.”

My daughter Shannon perfectly summed it up. “It was a life-affirming day.”

Yes, it was.