I have enjoyed nearly every facet of cycling over the years, but my focus is primarily on mountain bikes these days. I love the silence and relative simplicity of the bicycle. I first turned the cranks at the age of four, unencumbered by fear or training wheels. My dad taught me to ride, setting me loose on a quiet street in Burleson, Texas, and a love for bicycles that would last a lifetime.

A little cyclist.

I learned to ride on a little yellow bike with matching three-spoke mags, motocross printed on solid rubber tires, and foam pads in all the right places. It was handed down from cousins, and I have managed to hold onto that bike to this day.

For the Memories

The memories of riding that I always circle back to revolve around Taylor Trails in Burleson, Texas. It was our ‘sandlot,’ a small slice of floodplain filled with dirt jumps. We were out there digging and riding every single day. Life was simple, and nothing else mattered.

My favorite riding destination has to be Sedona. I am drawn to the sun, the red rock, and the sheer vastness of the place. Nothing in that area is particularly challenging, but there are incredible views at every turn. I need to get back down there.

A mockumentary triathlete in training.

Having done nothing else for the last 30 years, I feel it would be foolish to simplify my reason for riding down to one main driving force. I ride for many reasons. I ride to work through anger and sadness. I ride to find clarity, to find happiness, and share special moments with friends. I ride to be alone. I ride to compete. I ride to experience the seasons and visit far off places. Some days I don’t have a clue why I ride, but then I do it anyway and rarely regret it.

Mountain biker on a trail on the side of a mountain while racing.

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