From Hometown Hustle to Gravel Road Reflections
Some of my earliest memories are painted with the blur of motion. Whether it was the rhythmic whir of bicycle wheels or the steady thump of my shoes on pavement, I was always on the move. Chasing the clock to meet deadlines, or simply trying to keep pace with family, the desire to propel myself forward, under my own power, was a constant. That sense of control, of shaping my own journey, was intoxicating. Between trips to the library, the family farm, and my grandparents’ house, I was constantly plotting the quickest, most creative routes.
As I grew older, my love for cycling transformed into a job, and a way to connect with my community. Delivering newspapers across half my hometown by bike wasn’t just about earning money for college; it was about responsibility, communication, and the unexpected warmth of human connection. Holiday gifts from customers and casual sidewalk chats kept me grounded. Sure, those early mornings weren’t always easy, but the drive to build a future fueled my determination.
The transition to college and the workforce was a whirlwind, fueled by a combination of cycling and running. Running opened doors to competitive college athletics and provided vital financial assistance. Cycling, meanwhile, offered a much-needed outlet for recovery and a way to explore beyond the limitations of my running shoes.
Moving to Lincoln brought a shift in focus. Endurance running took a backseat to bike commuting. I embraced the challenge of finding efficient, sweat-free routes to work, and the joy of racing the long way home after a long day. For over a decade, my bike was my primary mode of transport, braving all seasons for work, church, and even grocery runs. My car, relegated to weekend family visits, gathered dust in the garage.
Despite stepping back from endurance running, I remained connected to the running community, volunteering at races and guiding fellow runners. It was my way of giving back. I even attempted to start my own cycling community, but ultimately realized my own chapter of intense endurance riding was not complete.
Today, you’ll find me exploring the gravel roads of Lancaster County, venturing beyond the familiar bike paths, and even crossing state borders. These rides aren’t just about physical exertion; they’re a chance for reflection, a journey back to the small-town roots and the fields I helped cultivate. And, of course, I’m always eager to share my passion with others, helping them discover the world on two wheels.
Looking ahead, I’m excited to see how the next generation will innovate, how they’ll redefine the art of getting from point A to point B, and how they’ll find their own unique ways to beat the clock. The spirit of movement, of exploration, is timeless, and I can’t wait to see where it takes us next.
Thanks for your passion and service, Steven!