The Bike Path of Life

This weekend I got out on my bike for the first time in weeks. The vacation in Turkey burned a couple of weekends, and last weekend, frankly, I just didn’t feel like it.

I rode alone, which has been a little unusual this summer, but probably something I should get used to if I am going to keep riding. Saturday I rode mostly on the street, but today I returned to the forest park near my home, which has been where I’ve done most of my riding this year.

At one point, after I had ridden about five kilometers deep into the park, I stopped to just listen to the sound of the wind in the trees and try to enjoy some much-needed serenity in this little forest oasis surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city. It was a warm, breezy day, and the leaves above rustled as a light wind moved them to and fro. There was the occasional sound of a tree trunk creaking or dried leaves falling to the ground.

Even though I knew the city was still all around me, it was nice to imagine that I was really far away in a forest and able to take in some calm power from the trees, the wind – from nature itself.

Such moments often inspire me to think beyond myself. For a moment, I thought about riding alone and how it felt sort of odd. Then I put that thought aside, and something else came to me.

The Path of Life

As I looked at the path straight ahead of me, I realized that at some point, the path seemed to merge with the trees at the end of my field of vision; I could not see where it ended. I turned around and looked behind me and noticed the same thing. Then it occurred to me that the bike path was a lot like the paths we follow in life.

You can only see a certain portion of the path ahead of you, but you have no idea what lies beyond what you can see. It’s a mystery, and the only way to find out what is there is to keep riding until you reach the end. It’s sort of a metaphor for life: you can only see or predict a small part of the future, but to find out what lies ahead for you, you have to keep going until you reach it.

And the path behind is a similar metaphor. You can recall well much of the recent past, but beyond a certain point, you tend to forget things that happened. Only truly remarkable or important things remain in your memory.

But the bike path resembles life in other ways. Some parts are rough and difficult to ride, while other parts are easier. Much of the path I rode today had only about a two-foot (65 cm) strip down the middle that was navigable, and there were deep ruts on either side. Veer off into a rut, and I’d find myself flying off my bike, possibly into a tree. Life is often like this.

And there were a number of obstacles along the path. In about five places, deadfall trees blocked the path, and I had to get off the bike and either go over the tree, under it, or around it. In the past, we’ve encountered places where the path was filled with muddy water or even impassible. And life often throws up obstacles to block your path; you either find a way around the obstacle, or go back and find an easier path. I suppose some people just stand there waiting for the obstacle to remove itself.

There are places where you can pedal along at a fast pace and make good progress. But in other places, the going is slower. Maybe you have to climb a hill, or push through muddy ground. Maybe you have to take it slow because the ground is irregular, with a lot of dips, holes and rocks. Life too has its times when you can move quickly and make good progress, as well as times when you find yourself bogged down.

Which Way to Go?

The forest park is crisscrossed with paths of various types, widths, difficulties and directions. There are no markers to tell you which path leads where, and there is no good map. You often come to crossroads and forks, and you have to make decisions about which way to go. A wrong choice can send you far from your intended destination and make your ride a lot more difficult. Sometimes you can make a good guess based on the position of the sun or by using a compass; other times you just have to use your intuition.

That is very much like life. In a post I wrote almost two years ago, called Decision Points Along Life’s Path, I wrote extensively about the forks and crossroads we come to during our lives and how these choices affect how our lives turn out. In that post I imagined how making different choices at those decision points might lead to entirely different lives and wondered whether all of those possible alternatives might actually exist in some kind of mirror universes. And I thought again about that today.

People and Messages along the Way

As I rode, I came across several people. One biker was coming the opposite direction very quickly and nearly caused us both to veer off and crash. But at the last moment, we were able to get control and pass each other safely. I came up on several pairs of people walking in the forest, slowed down, and politely thanked them when they moved to the side to let me by.

At another point, I came upon a man with a dog. The man was on a cross path coming from my left, and he asked me in a friendly way if I knew where the path that I was following led to. I told him that I thought it led to the golf club property, but he replied that the golf club was to my left, along the path that he had just come from. Since that was my goal, I went that way.

The man had a message for me that I needed at that moment. We often encounter people in life who have some message or knowledge for us at the right time.

More Thoughts

As I continued riding, I thought about change, about how none of us is perfect (some of us, in fact, are exceedingly imperfect), and how our life’s path should be about improvement, about learning how to be better people. It occurred to me that we should grow to be stronger of will, but at the same time more understanding and accepting of others, and more caring and compassionate.

I started my Sunday ride feeling a bit depressed that I was riding alone. But as time went by, that depression faded and was replaced by the exhilaration of hard peddling, a quickened heartbeat, and just enough sweat to know I was working hard. Even more, it was replaced by some valuable life insights that I would never have gained if I had sat at home or met friends in a café.

It was a good ride, and a great day.  But all in all, I’d still rather not ride alone.

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