From the President's Desk: What would you do with just a little time?

Over the weekend, I went for a quick bike ride along the trail by our house. Like many in the Midwest, it's an old rail bed converted for recreation.

The weather was that perfect temperature that comes at the start of fall. As a result, the trail was packed with families, dog walkers, kids on bikes, and even a group taking homecoming photos. As I wove through the crowds, I called out the familiar “on your left” to let people know I was passing.

Six miles in, as I crept up on another cyclist moving at a pretty good clip, I noticed he had two full saddle bags on either side of his back wheel. (Saddle bags are containers that hang from your bike frame, letting you carry gear, tools, water, or other materials that you might need on a long ride.) My own saddle bag, tucked under my seat, is only about the size of a few decks of cards and holds just enough for basic repairs. This guy was packed for a long haul!

As I called, “On your left!,” and moved over to pass,, I noticed he was wearing a bike jersey that read, "Riding to Raise Funds for Children's Cancer." He looked to be about 30 years older than me and was pedaling with the consistent, determined stroke of someone on a serious ride.

I passed him, and several others, without thinking much of it. But, about two miles later, as I slowed for a crosswalk, he pulled up behind me. Despite his heavier bike and load, he had caught up with me! We crossed together.

Curious, I asked, "In for a long ride?".

"I'm at mile 82," he said. "Just about 20 to go."

That was NOT what I was expecting to hear.

In cycling, a 100-mile ride in a single day is called a century. To cover that kind of distance safely, he’d spent the day riding back and forth along several major trails in the area. He was now in the final stretch, heading home to meet his girlfriend for dinner.

There’s a section of our trail that’s still under construction. The overpassing roadway is finished, but the dirt trail below hasn’t been restored yet. I planned to turn around there, but he’d already been through that area several times over the last few weeks and planned to press on to where the trail turned back into pavement.

Knowing we’d soon part ways, I realized how much I still wanted to ask him. What was he carrying in his bags, and what was the story behind his jersey? How did he get into bike riding in the first place, and how did he keep it up at his age? What did he do for work, and how did he find time to fit in both a 100-mile ride and a dinner date with his girlfriend in a single day? (Something I would love to aspire to!)

But I knew the end of the trail was swiftly at hand. I had never met this man before and likely would never meet him again. What would I say to him in just the few brief moments we had together?

This immediately got me thinking about how the short bike ride was such a great allegory for our human lives. We do not get forever. Each and every one of us is already riding toward a finish line. So, what do we choose to say to the people in our lives? Where do we choose to spend our time? Every single person – even a stranger – who you encounter is on the same trail as you, headed toward the same destination with the same purpose.

In the few minutes he and I had together, I asked him why he rode, what got him into riding, and what his riding routine was like. He let me know his goal was to ride 10,000 miles every year, and that he was about 8,600 miles into the year.

Too soon, we reached the end of the road. I watched him pedal through the gap the construction workers had left in the fence and onto the dirt path lined with other bike tracks. Meanwhile, I turned my bike around and headed for home.

There are so many things I’ll never get to know. What motivated his 10,000-mile-per-year goal? Was it personal? How long had he been working toward this amazing accomplishment? Did anyone ever get to hear his story?

The full truth is that we will never get to answer every single question about the people we interact with. Even when we love someone and are close to them, we have to resign ourselves to the fact that we can never know every single thing that there is to know about them. Often, people don't even know every single thing about themselves. And we should learn to accept that.

So as you go about your day, I’d ask you to ask yourself: With just a short ride ahead of me, how do I want to make an impact on this planet today? What do I want the people around me to hear and feel? How do I want to be seen and thought of?

And what questions might I ask someone if I knew we had to make the most of only a little time together?