My brother enjoys biking and sharing his love of the sport. Twenty-five years ago he gave my wife and me new mountain bikes. They pretty much sat in our garage for 20 years. We were runners throughout high school and college, so whatever leisure time we had was often put into hiking and running.
A little over five years ago on a warm summer day, my daughter, who was a sophomore in high school, and I ran up New Hampshire’s 3,000-foot Mt. Kearsarge. We started in the town of Warner, a few miles from the foot of the mountain, and when we reached the top, she said, “Dad, please go get the car so we don’t have to hike down!” We had planned to hike down the north side that my wife and our dog had hiked up, to meet us. So down I went, jogging the eight miles back to town to fetch the car.
Along the way I injured my knee. I made it, but couldn’t walk thereafter. A friend I was talking with that evening, who’d had some medical experience with this kind of injury, said I’d need a year to heal and recover—after surgery. I opted for mental surgery (see Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 402) and called a Christian Science practitioner to pray with me.
