My Trail

Yesterday was the first truly warm day in March.  The temperature was in the 40s and the sun was shining, triggering the early spring flooding daily bike commuters love so well.  A winter of snow and ice mixed with salt and sand has begun to melt onto the paths and roads I take to and from work.  My bike has no fenders.  The predictable result is the entire front side of my body being coated with a layer of sand and saltwater.  My face is usually covered in grime as well, giving me a certain lunatic aura.  I expect riding conditions like this for the next week.

I've noticed that water is not the only thing flooding onto the paths - yesterday I ran across dozens of bikers, runner, walkers and strollers on my way home.  This is strange for me, as I'm accustomed to seeing one, maybe two bikers a day on my commute with the occasional hardcore runner.  Imagine spending three months on a series of trails virtually alone, then one day - literally in one day! - the population explodes by several thousand percent.

I don't really begrudge the new inhabitants of my trail, but I found myself a little bemused by their presence; it felt like they didn't belong on my trail.  The tall, colorful road bikes and hordes of power walking women all seemed so foreign, so out of place after a winter of solitude.  Part of me is happy to see so many people out enjoying the weather, and part of me misses the quiet of a cold morning. 

In a few weeks it will be normal to see the trails choked with bikers and joggers.  And next winter, the cycle will repeat all over again.