ON THE BIKE TRAIL—

The Richland County bike trail is a nicely meandering, gently level ride of 18.3 miles on the old railroad bed between Mansfield’s North Lake Park and Butler.

My usual starting point is at the reconstructed train station in Bellville: pictured with a rider rolling by its handsome, period clock.

Heading north you cross the Clear Fork branch of the Mohican River and are immediately immersed in a cool, tree-lined tunnel with sandy, rock outcroppings, then, the trail is adjacent to SR 97 until it crosses that highway near I-71 and returns to rural solitude all the way to Lexington.

It was there, on a recent ride, I was passed, by a lady, who hasn’t missed too many meals in her lifetime. Son Brian once described such a physique as looking like she had a couple of teddy bears wrestling in her shorts.

I was passed? Oh well, such is life.

As you approach the interstate you are accosted by a constant rumble of traffic high overhead; but, that soon passes.

Then, it is the muted swish of your own tires rolling on the smooth asphalt surface while you look down and watch your working silhouette chase the whizzing shadow of your front tire.

I heard, and then smiled a greeting to a more than middle aged couple who wobbled by on a tandem bike southbound. They appeared to be challenging the laws of balance.

You will see folks on rollerblades and hikers and moms with babes in strollers.

You will see cows grazing in nearby pastures. And, wildlife.

I’m still inclined to chuckle at the chipmunk headed in the opposite direction that passed between my bike and the pavement edge—and never looked up.

Then a couple came by towing a sulky with two kids. The youngest did her royal wave as she peered at me through her delightfully gaudy, pink glasses.

Up near Millsboro Rd, I met a fellow on an unusual design of a bike. My inquiry led to a pleasant conversation and we rode side-by-side—as it turned out—up to and around the large pond in North Lake Park.

His name is Bill Radler and he suffers from muscular dystrophy as well as a debilitating nerve disorder. The bike was a gift from his son and is the only style he can comfortably ride. Bill’s wife is suffering with cancer.

While riding together we passed a northbound cyclist—with no legs. I’ve seen this fellow before. He rides a low slung vehicle like a tricycle going backwards and propels himself with his well developed arms and shoulders.

I don’t know why life hurt him so badly but I am strengthened each time I see him slapping his infirmity into submission.

Bill and I looped the pond at North Lake and rode back to his car at Home Rd. He is a friendly and gentle soul. I hope we ride together again.

I'd also like to ride some day with the fellow with no legs.

But, I doubt if I could keep up.