July 24, 2025
By Michael Barry
For much of his last month alive, my father was in hospital. Daily, I would pedal down towards the heart of the city, following the paths along rivers which are its arteries, and passing under bridges with cars streaming overhead. At the time, I didn’t know these would be my final days, and even hours, with my father. Before ascending to his room that overlooked Gerrard Street, the historic Don Jail, Lake Ontario, and parkland, I would pick up a couple of coffees and pastries, something that started to feel like a routine even after a few days. Beside his bed and on the window sill, were stacks of books, newspapers and magazines, many bike related but not all. Even though it was his temporary room you could tell it was his just by looking at the piles.
We would talk about the shop, the kids, and the goings on-- small talk that always turned into something deeper. We sat in front of the windows, facing the city as it hurried on with its morning. He would often comment about what he saw out there through the day: the cyclists streaming along Dundas going west towards the centre and then east in the evening, going home, the pigeons on the wires, lining up, fluttering around, pecking away, going about their daily routine. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, he was always perceptive and conscious of the environment he shared. With time, I’ve realized that I think he found comfort, beyond the walls of the hospital, beyond his infection, in the routines of daily life, in watching the pigeons, the cyclists and the peace with which they moved. Through the window he could find escape and, maybe hope. The things I seem to be able to find most easily as I ride to and from work, which having spent his lifetime on his bike, my father always understood.
The daily bike commute nicely bookends the workday, no matter the weather. In the morning, a rush of cool air from the river hits, as I leave the neighbourhood following the bike path and dive into the ravine. In the park, away from the built environment, the sharp edges of the city soften while the colours become vibrant. Flowing along the trails and paths, my thoughts process and wander preparing me–mostly my brain– for the day.
For many, bikes are tools for fitness, vehicles to move with minimal environmental impact or for others they are considered children’s toys. But, on a bike we can also find solace.
Pedaling a rhythm, I find the focus and peace that I imagine others discover through meditation, something at which I seem to fail. Sitting still without the flow of nature and movement, mindfulness is elusive; outside, moving, I am engaged in the moment, my surroundings and the immediate. Movement calms the angst that so often builds while the natural environment brings perspective. Watching animals scurrying, pecking and splashing about on their errands– cheeks full of nuts, beaks digging for worms, heads bobbing for fish– somehow brings calm to my mind which races within the chaos of the human world, making it all seem less important. The natural environment is constantly evolving and no two days are the same: the river rises, plants grow, trees fall, animals are born…. Commuting daily I am a witness to it all.
Along the bike path, I’ll pass a few other regular commuters who I’ll see daily regardless of the season or weather. Like me, they’ve ridden the same path for years now, at about the same spot each day, as we commute to our work schedule. I only know one by name, Chris, but I feel like we share something unique even though we've never spoken other than hello, or good morning. Sometimes, it feels like we are in on a secret. But, of course, scientists have proven through study why we cherish the ride and how movement improves our mindset.
Cars, and often our built environments, have isolated us from what our bodies and brains need most. Tethered to our phones and electronic devices we are further disconnected from the natural environment. Driving to work, few people wave but more often, especially in a city with a broken and paralyzed infrastructure, they cut in front, honk and unleash their stress on others. Even outside of a vehicle, human interaction is diminished as headphones have become ubiquitous, disassociating us with our environment. We not only acknowledge each other less but we also miss the sound of the wind in the trees, birdsong and water flow.
Dr Marc Berman, from the University of Chicago, studies nature and its effects on the body: Spending time in a natural environment can improve memory and attention by 20 percent, spaces in cities with trees had a positive effect on health and happiness. The benefits can last for hours or even days, while urban environments, drain us as they demand constant directed attention due to noise and visual stimuli resulting in fatigue, stress and reduced performance.
Looking through my father’s notebooks after his death I came across a number from his travels and his bike trips. Daily, in a small pad with a fountain pen, he would scribble a page of reflections. In most, he would detail the environment he saw, whether the trees full of walnuts, the gradients of the climbs or the birds on the wires. An exercise which is proven to be mentally enriching. They were a few simple lines that captured the moment, his mindset, and perhaps what had brought him joy as he pedaled along, alone or with others.
Days and moments can easily be consumed with busyness as we work and build for our futures. During that pursuit we can make small escapes, even in concrete cities of millions. On our commutes, small deviations through parks, tree lined neighborhoods, or a rest beside a lake or creek, can help us rejuvenate as we absorb a few nurturing minutes in the natural environment.
