I ride my bike on the Olentangy Bike Trail on a daily basis from its starting point at Worthington Hills down to the OSU football stadium and back.  Although I cannot ride when the ice and snow are on the trail, if the pavement is clear in the winter I am all bundled up and riding. I am a creature of habit and since my marathon running days I have always picked out one training course I like and pretty much stick with it through thick and thin.  Part of why I do that is because I enjoy observing the same course over time...how it changes in appearance and texture, and how the same trek feels different to me at different times of the year.

There is no better place to experience the rhythm of life from season to season. The summer is the busiest time on the trail, of course, with all different kinds of folks using it.  There are walkers, runners and bikers (both serious and casual); skaters and skateboarders; dog-walkers; young lovers and old lovers; people fishing; others doing calisthenics; photographers, artists and even bagpipers; high school teams of various types getting in shape for the upcoming season; police on bikes; city and county workers doing work; and one old one-armed guy who rides his bike and then stops, leans the bike against a tree, and then with a machete or something clears out space in the woods all along the trail.  I don't have a clue why he is doing that, but he is very consistent.  I also wonder about people I have seen regularly on the trail and then don't see them anymore.  What happened?  I don't know, but I miss their presence; they were part of the rhythm of the life we shared even though we didn't know each other.  The list of all the people I observe on my daily rides could go on and on.

Humanity is not the only life out there, of course: squirrels and chipmunks scurry under the wheels of my bike (I have never hit one, but have seen a few along the way that were); gophers are sitting up eating alongside the trail, unbothered by me zooming by; birds often fly the same speed and direction as me and so close I could reach out and grab them if I chose (but I don't!), and those stupid Canadian geese never get out of your way; sometimes I have to remember to close my mouth because of the countless bugs coming at me, some that bounce off my helmet and sunglasses; and I have even turned a corner or two and hit my brakes because a deer was standing there right in the middle of the trail.   In the summer, the trees and bushes are thick with vegetation and as a result there are many blind corners along the winding trail where a cyclist needs to be careful.  The trail is simply brimming with life!

Now is the part of summer when I begin to notice the signs that autumn is not far away.  The pavement is becoming littered with leaves more and more.  Even though the summer sun is still warm, there are places along the trail in the shade where I actually feel the chill of a cool breeze.  There is a lesser number of teenagers, and young families together on the trail than there were. They are too busy getting ready for the start-up of school I suppose. 

Autumn will actually be somewhat treacherous as more leaves drop on the trail and get wet.  There's nothing worse than taking a fast corner and having your back wheel slip on wet leaves.  I pull out the wool biking socks, the shorts become tights, the jerseys have long sleeves, and I wear the bike gloves that are not cut off at my knuckles.  It is the time of the year when you start picking out who the diehards are.   Life in all its forms is slowly vacating the trail, and it won't be long until I am beginning to feel more solitary out there.

By the time winter hits, it is a day-by-day decision whether or not I will actually go out there, or be down in the basement spinning on my indoor trainer.   If the pavement is dry and the temp is anywhere around freezing, I will break out of my hibernation and ride again.  It's cold...no mistaking that, and I don't go as fast for that reason; but at least I'm out there.   On some of those colder days, I might not see another soul on the trail for an entire ride.  What once brimmed with life is now just lonely and forlorn.  In the middle of winter riding, it feels like the desolation will never end.  It just goes on and on and on.

But then one day I notice that the wind is not as biting as it had been and warmth starts coming back into the air.  I leave off layers of bike clothes before heading out on a ride because I don't have to be quite as bundled as I was.  Spring is on its way, and I am glad to see it after the long, cold winter.  The buds appear on the trees, and even though I can still see through all those blind corners, I know it will not be long before I will have to take extra care around them again.  Funny how you get to a point when there is so much life abounding all around that you cannot see it all, especially after the contrast of hardly seeing any life for months at a time.

When I was younger I often rode hard to simply get from point A to B as fast as I could without noticing what was around me.  For that reason, I have biked in the most beautiful parts of the country I never really saw! These days I just don't ride that way anymore.  I now make a point of constantly taking in the rhythm of life on the trail, remembering that this is my rhythm also, given by God to feel and notice and appreciate at every stage along the way.  A reminder that life on the Olentangy Trail, and life everywhere else, as God has given it to us is good and meant to be savored wherever we find ourselves.

                                                                                       Peace, Jeff