Several days a week, I leave my house at around the same time to work out on a stretch of the Great Rivers Greenway in my neighborhood. And I always see the same people in the same places.

First it’s a man named Rich, whom I see near a footbridge walking his beagle named Clyde. Often, we have some form of this conversation:

“You should come to my workout with me! It’s free!”

“I’m too old!”

“No, you’re not!”

And I never break stride.

When I get to the park, Ray and Joyce Uhles and their two dogs are in the parking lot or just getting to the greenway from it. When I met them a few years ago, Joyce taught me to remember their names by calling them “Ray-Joyce, like rejoice,” which fits because their smiles bring that word to life. Most of the time, Rebecca Renken is with them. They all met on this trail and gather here daily.

So many characters on my greenway, so little time. There’s the guy who waves with two hands at eye level in front of him and smiles like he’s being tickled, the dude with a chest like a Buick, the couple who carries dog treats, and the man who wheels his walker to the bench and always offers a cheerful hello from there.

All of this happens on a 1.5-mile stretch that goes through Cottleville’s Legacy Park and around two lakes behind my subdivision. The Great Rivers Greenway network comprises 140 miles of trails all over the St. Louis area, and part of me wants to cover all 140 miles to see all the characters gracing all the trails in the system.

The other part of me would rather say hey to the lady on my greenway who sings (and loudly at that) as she pulls into the parking lot; nod at the cyclist who looks so much like one of my editors that I half-wanted to pitch him this story; or low-five the ripped dude who runs shirtless. If my torso looked like that, I’d go shirtless everywhere — work, grocery store, library, church.

So I stick to my greenway, because seriously, if I wasn’t there, what would Rich, Ray-Joyce, and Tickle Man do without me?

As good as the greenway is for me physically — I have run, walked, bear-crawled, rucked, and ridden my bike hundreds and hundreds of miles on it — all of these “relationships” show it’s even better for me relationally. It makes Cottleville feel like home, like nowhere I’ve lived since my boyhood home.

For the first 18 years of my life, I lived in one place. I’ve lived in 18 places in the 36 years since then. While I’ve stayed in other homes longer than this one (four years so far), I’ve never immersed myself in the community like I have here, and that’s because of my greenway.

In a literal sense, I don’t really know these people — not the ones I see in the morning when I’m working out, and not the separate crew I see when I walk in the evening with my wife. I don’t know where they came from, what they do for a living, how many kids they have (or don’t), etc. But I consider them friends anyway. Heck, when I didn’t see Buick Chest Dude for a few months, I genuinely worried he’d moved away without saying goodbye. When I finally saw his familiar gait (and physique) headed toward me again, I was relieved.

The world is increasingly splintered, disconnected, disinterested in community. Nobody has time for anybody.

But not here. Not on my greenway.

On my greenway, we look for each other, talk to each other, say hello, and share a laugh, even if it’s just for a few seconds, because we know we’ll walk away smiling about the encounter.

And all the more eager for the next one.

Author: Matt Crossman is a Terrain columnist and freelance writer in Cottleville, Mo. To sign up for his free newsletter, go here.

Image: Greenway regulars Joyce Uhles (left), Ray Uhles, and Rebecca Renken. (Matt Crossman)