Tabletop flat and remote, the landscape pulled me in and devoured me as I pushed my road bike to the northeast and away from Crookston proper in an area not known for filling up Instagram feeds. But this wasn't a ride so much about place.

The air was cool bordering on cold, but the sun was unobstructed and warmed my back, while when I looked up, a forever sky disappeared into a horizon that never seemed to get closer with each turn of the wheels. No matter. I was out in mid-October, knowing my window was closing on fall cycling. I had no target or speed in mind — I was out purely for the pleasure of moving by bike.

Many elements came together to make it a memorable ride — and memories of my autumn rides are the easiest to summon. In this case, the newness of the terrain — I'd never been to these rural parts some notoriously consider ugly — and getting out solo heightened my experience over those 35-plus miles. In the draining daylight and the warming sunshine, it occurred to me that my timing was spot-on and my enduring thought was true: To roll in the transition of autumn — the chill, the changing light, the auburn hues — is a direct path to mindfulness.

The internal focus narrows for sure. Am I geared up well? How am I feeling? How is my body reacting, how is it working in different conditions?

And the external: Riding into the crosswinds of a new season, the dense air, and nature's rewards stimulate awareness that, in essence, is in lockstep with mindfulness practice, syncing up the mind and body.

Harvard psychologist Ellen J. Langer got to the point about awareness in Rob Walker's book "The Art of Noticing":

"When you actively notice new things, that puts you in the present. … As you notice new things, it's engaging, and it turns out it's literally, not just figuratively, enlivening."

The conditions Up North created an alchemy that kept me in the moment and, engaged, I had a feeling of awe about what I was doing (cycling), when (autumn) and where (open plain) that was a powerful tonic.

Mary Jo Kreitzer knows the feeling. She might call it gratitude, too. She had just ridden north of Grand Rapids and recalled gradual hills giving way to an expansive view of changing foliage. The scene pulsed within her.

"I am fascinated by that concept [of awe] and that touches close to spirituality when we feel a deep connection outside ourselves in that way," added Kreitzer, who spends much of her time thinking about and teaching about mind-body connections and their health benefits. She is the founder of the University of Minnesota's Bakken Center for Spirituality and Healing.

As researched and heavily written about, getting out of doors in combination with exercise can't be overstated.

"Nature is a healer," she said.

"Window is closing"

Jan Lasar of Bowlus, Minn., north of St. Cloud, whetted his appetite for long-distancing while riding out his front door. He and his wife, Jen, have come to covet a paved 10-mile stretch of the Soo Line Trail, a northern spur of the Lake Wobegon Trail. They take it north where it meets Hwy. 10 at the Morrison-Stearns county lines.

Lasar can rattle off a list of memorable rides, from stretches of the rail trails such as Paul Bunyan and Heartland to the diversity of the Mesabi. Putting in the work comes naturally: He's the editor of Minnesota Trails magazine, a publication of the nonprofit Parks & Trails Council of Minnesota.

He said the transition to autumn gives him an extra push to get out — plus the views of the falls at Blanchard Dam and of the Mississippi River he'll find on the Soo Line.

"You realize the window is closing [to cycle]," Lasar added.

Kreitzer, 70, said her purchase of an electric-assist bike has been transformative, allowing her to continue to ride. It is a feeling of "self-efficacy" that transports her back to her childhood, when getting on and taking off on a bike built confidence and a joy of exploring.

"An insight I had earlier this summer when cycling," she said, "is that it is one of the few things I can do as an older adult that makes me feel like I did when I was 10."

In that spirit of exploration, Kreitzer said it's valuable for people to find things they can do year-round. Think about hitting those same trails with snowshoes or skis when the snow flies. Or if you need to stick to wheels, take up fatbiking, or even keep it indoors on a trainer or stationary bike.

Kreitzer enjoys an indoor bike in the morning on super-cold days, the way exercise can set the tone and pace for the day.

And there remains that chance at awe in that solo endeavor, much like my randomly purposeful poke out headed toward Red Lake Falls.

As writer Nick Moore returns to again and again in his meditations in his book "Mindful Thoughts for Cyclists," more is going on than only cycling after all. That applies to any outdoors action taken up in good spirit.

"To have nothing to do but ride the bike … is a pleasure to be savoured. If that's your happy lot today, take the sounds, sights, smells and sensations and store them up like bright golden pennies against shorter, duller days to come."