My wheels whir across the fallen leaves that are still full of color from their autumnal parade: yellows, reds, oranges, and greens both below and above me. The leaves still attached to their limbs in the trees flutter and shimmer in the cool breeze. The shrubs along the trail are showing the rust of a long year, with the grays and browns of their stems showing through more eagerly as the tired leaves drop away. 

I round a bend, pedaling with engaged effort to gain momentum for the next short climb, listening to an unusual noise coming from my wheels as their knobbies dig and grasp at the trail’s surface. The varied sounds of dried, drying, or wet leaves mixes in harmony with the familiar dialog of gravel and dirt, rocks and roots. Where the leaves are deep enough, the ride becomes very quiet with just the assorted hisses and whispers from my tires as the trail winds through the trees.

It’s time—again—to stop for that irresistible photo, much to the chagrin of my riding partners. The autumn sunlight brings out the colors that have been washed out so harshly by the summer’s straight-overhead, nuclear spotlight. Shadows have become long and soft. With the click click of my camera, I’m off again, but my poor choice for a photo op location compels me to stand as I pedal so that I can build momentum to scale the large root ahead (more grumbling from my riding partners).

It’s noon as I pedal up a long climb, making almost constant steering adjustments to miss the myriad rocks strewn about the trail. The time of day is a fact that isn’t lost on me. I welcome the cool temperatures and soft wind after a very intense summer that didn’t want to give up on the triple-digit oven that relegated me to early morning rides only lest I feel its wrath. Being able to ride any time of the day is one of the great gifts of fall. Sleeping in, walking the dog, or doing a few chores while still having the opportunity to go for a ride creates a feeling of freedom that makes life a bit simpler. 

The trail turns downhill, and I sling through the corners like a proper surfer riding a wave: essing back and forth between trees; flicking my bike in quick, carving motions; using anything from rocks to roots to plant my tires and keep me on track. Things are different today from the preceding months: the fall weather has endowed the earth with rain, making the dirt tacky. The damp trail shakes hands with the rubber of my tires with a firm grasp that holds me tight to my line down the trail. Gone (for a bit) are the white-knuckle, two-wheel drifts of summer, when I was just hoping my tires would bite in before I bit some bark off a tree. A confident smile takes to my lips as I head into the next set of turns.

I turn upwards toward the summit of my ride into the afternoon wind and sun that create a psychedelic kaleidoscope through the multi-colored canopy. I remind myself to keep my eyes from wandering too much—there is riding at hand. As I crest the peak, I find myself automatically coming to a stop, dumbfounded. Before me, rolling into the distance, are hillsides painted in autumn’s palette. The cycle of the seasons spins around again like the wheels of my bike. Just as the leaves will soon die only to be reborn again in spring, this ride will end. But after a rest, another will be ready to begin.