It was only a small triumph, and afterwards I wondered why I'd never managed it before.
But all the conditions must have been just right on the weekly mountain bike outing where I managed to get to the top of a bit of an uphill that, for some reason usually defeats me.
Maybe it was the pasta tea I had before setting out, maybe because I wasn't at the back of the "posse" where I could easily psyche myself out of it, maybe it was the still clear night, maybe the dry ground under-wheel.
Whatever, I crested the brow of the muddy track and punched the air in triumph, much to the dismay of my fellow riders who have been clearing it for ages!
None of us, though, managed to 'clear' the big, steep hill of the night... and one which has always defeated me, no matter what the conditions.
What usually does it for me is the big 'step' half way up where some old setts come to a sudden end, and my brain just can't seem to take it.
"You're going to do it... this time, you're going to do it" I intone to myself in the plodding build-up.
Then, as the setts hove into view, it all goes to pieces and I've stopped.
Psyched out of it again, even on the best of nights!