#6: The Monon Trail

Joe (the crushing but cute statistical analyst I married) has found a flaw - not fatal but probably close - in my method. How are these rankings legitimate? How can I prove that Friday Night Lights truly are better than Olive Garden Breadsticks? And my answer to that is that I can’t. Not really, anyway. Subjectively, with words, I can probably try. But there’s no mathematical algorithm to express why one surpasses the other. Much to the dismay of my number-loving husband, you’re just gonna have to take my word for it. 

The sixth-place item is a 27-mile rail trail that extends from downtown Indianapolis to the cornfields and horse farms of Sheridan, Indiana. It is a paved trail that crosses creeks, subscends highways, and traces walkers and bikers from the bustle of Broad Ripple to the serenity of golden-grass plans up north. It’s a path that Joe and I have regularly traversed -- to Chipotle in our dating days, multiple runs during our wed-shred engagement, and now (farther north) as old married geysers hand in hand. Through the rain and the snow and the bitter chill of spring, it’s unlikely we’ve gone a month without at least one Monon visit.


I think the greater Monon metaphor has to do with the journey. As I said, it’s taken us through various walks of life. The house he lived in when we met was only two blocks over from the trail. On our one-month anniversary, he got me a yellow rose and we walked side by side. The summer while we dated, we biked the entire 27 miles down and back, a six-hour endeavor in all. Once engaged, we walked through the Westfield portion of the trail, dreaming of being hired at the high school down the road. And now, we’re married, and we’ve been hired there, and we can take the Monon from our apartment to work, and from work to the Chipotle we frequent on long days. 


I can only imagine our future home will be in similar proximity, especially considering we’re looking at houses near Sheridan. What an odyssey it will be to push a stroller on that very trail - how sentimental to think of the walks our kids could take there. 


The Monon is a gathering place. A place of progress and persistence. A passageway from town to town, from one restaurant to the next. Even during pandemic shutdowns, walkers would gather. Sometimes spaced out, sometimes thankful for the outdoor opportunity to finally be together. But always moving. From the snow-dotted winter path to the spring trail which looks as though it’s been lined with purple spray paint from fallen flowers, people keep moving. And our society continues to progress - technological developments bring pelotons and workout machines like never-before-seen, but the trail will persist. People will keep walking. The Monon - with all its jettisons and journeys - will prevail as a primary path for people forever. 


For that reason, for the nostalgia and the growth along the way, I rank the Monon 6th. 



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