Mar 3, 2025
30 years on 2 wheels: A love letter to the ride
It started the way so many lifelong loves do — with a hand-me-down bike, a backpack full of snacks, and my dad leading the way down hiking trails we had no business riding. I was hooked from the first rocky descent, white-knuckling the handlebars while my legs pinwheeled for control. In those early years, the bike was freedom. It was a passport to explore the woods beyond my backyard and test just how far a pre-teen could push a department store mountain bike before something snapped. The years rolled on, and so did my bikes — better ones, faster ones, sturdier ones that could survive the overconfidence of my twenties. Riding with friends, riding alone, sometimes even riding to get somewhere — the bike was always there, evolving with me as I grew from trail-curious kid to fully committed lifer.
Two Wheels, Infinite Paths: A Timeline on the Trails
From childhood rides with my dad to desert trails across the Southwest, my relationship with bikes has been a constant evolution.
It started the way so many lifelong loves do — with a hand-me-down bike, a backpack full of snacks, and my dad leading the way down hiking trails we had no business riding. I was hooked from the first rocky descent, white-knuckling the handlebars while my legs pinwheeled for control. In those early years, the bike was freedom. It was a passport to explore the woods beyond my backyard and test just how far a pre-teen could push a department store mountain bike before something snapped. The years rolled on, and so did my bikes — better ones, faster ones, sturdier ones that could survive the overconfidence of my twenties. Riding with friends, riding alone, sometimes even riding to get somewhere — the bike was always there, evolving with me as I grew from trail-curious kid to fully committed lifer.
Finding Peace in Motion
Cycling became a meditation, a way to quiet the noise and find focus in the rhythm of the ride.
Somewhere along the line, riding stopped being just a hobby and became a kind of moving meditation. There’s a unique kind of clarity that only arrives when you’re miles into the woods, lost in the rhythm of your own breath and the crunch of tires over dirt. The outside world fades — no emails, no errands, no deadlines — just the next root, the next climb, the next fleeting moment of perfect balance between effort and flow. It’s therapy without the couch. When the world feels too loud, my cure has always been to get lost on a ride — sometimes literally, if my sense of direction is acting up. But those accidental detours almost always lead somewhere beautiful.
Let's Work Together
(MZ — 03)
©2025
Contact Now
Contact Me!
Let's create something wonderful together! I would love to be a part of it!
24/7 ish Support
24/7 ish Support
Available in NYC
Available in NYC
Mar 3, 2025
30 years on 2 wheels: A love letter to the ride
It started the way so many lifelong loves do — with a hand-me-down bike, a backpack full of snacks, and my dad leading the way down hiking trails we had no business riding. I was hooked from the first rocky descent, white-knuckling the handlebars while my legs pinwheeled for control. In those early years, the bike was freedom. It was a passport to explore the woods beyond my backyard and test just how far a pre-teen could push a department store mountain bike before something snapped. The years rolled on, and so did my bikes — better ones, faster ones, sturdier ones that could survive the overconfidence of my twenties. Riding with friends, riding alone, sometimes even riding to get somewhere — the bike was always there, evolving with me as I grew from trail-curious kid to fully committed lifer.
Two Wheels, Infinite Paths: A Timeline on the Trails
From childhood rides with my dad to desert trails across the Southwest, my relationship with bikes has been a constant evolution.
It started the way so many lifelong loves do — with a hand-me-down bike, a backpack full of snacks, and my dad leading the way down hiking trails we had no business riding. I was hooked from the first rocky descent, white-knuckling the handlebars while my legs pinwheeled for control. In those early years, the bike was freedom. It was a passport to explore the woods beyond my backyard and test just how far a pre-teen could push a department store mountain bike before something snapped. The years rolled on, and so did my bikes — better ones, faster ones, sturdier ones that could survive the overconfidence of my twenties. Riding with friends, riding alone, sometimes even riding to get somewhere — the bike was always there, evolving with me as I grew from trail-curious kid to fully committed lifer.
Finding Peace in Motion
Cycling became a meditation, a way to quiet the noise and find focus in the rhythm of the ride.
Somewhere along the line, riding stopped being just a hobby and became a kind of moving meditation. There’s a unique kind of clarity that only arrives when you’re miles into the woods, lost in the rhythm of your own breath and the crunch of tires over dirt. The outside world fades — no emails, no errands, no deadlines — just the next root, the next climb, the next fleeting moment of perfect balance between effort and flow. It’s therapy without the couch. When the world feels too loud, my cure has always been to get lost on a ride — sometimes literally, if my sense of direction is acting up. But those accidental detours almost always lead somewhere beautiful.
Let's Work Together
(MZ — 03)
©2025
Contact Now
Contact Me!
Let's create something wonderful together! I would love to be a part of it!
24/7 ish Support
Available in NYC
Mar 3, 2025
30 years on 2 wheels: A love letter to the ride
It started the way so many lifelong loves do — with a hand-me-down bike, a backpack full of snacks, and my dad leading the way down hiking trails we had no business riding. I was hooked from the first rocky descent, white-knuckling the handlebars while my legs pinwheeled for control. In those early years, the bike was freedom. It was a passport to explore the woods beyond my backyard and test just how far a pre-teen could push a department store mountain bike before something snapped. The years rolled on, and so did my bikes — better ones, faster ones, sturdier ones that could survive the overconfidence of my twenties. Riding with friends, riding alone, sometimes even riding to get somewhere — the bike was always there, evolving with me as I grew from trail-curious kid to fully committed lifer.
Two Wheels, Infinite Paths: A Timeline on the Trails
From childhood rides with my dad to desert trails across the Southwest, my relationship with bikes has been a constant evolution.
It started the way so many lifelong loves do — with a hand-me-down bike, a backpack full of snacks, and my dad leading the way down hiking trails we had no business riding. I was hooked from the first rocky descent, white-knuckling the handlebars while my legs pinwheeled for control. In those early years, the bike was freedom. It was a passport to explore the woods beyond my backyard and test just how far a pre-teen could push a department store mountain bike before something snapped. The years rolled on, and so did my bikes — better ones, faster ones, sturdier ones that could survive the overconfidence of my twenties. Riding with friends, riding alone, sometimes even riding to get somewhere — the bike was always there, evolving with me as I grew from trail-curious kid to fully committed lifer.
Finding Peace in Motion
Cycling became a meditation, a way to quiet the noise and find focus in the rhythm of the ride.
Somewhere along the line, riding stopped being just a hobby and became a kind of moving meditation. There’s a unique kind of clarity that only arrives when you’re miles into the woods, lost in the rhythm of your own breath and the crunch of tires over dirt. The outside world fades — no emails, no errands, no deadlines — just the next root, the next climb, the next fleeting moment of perfect balance between effort and flow. It’s therapy without the couch. When the world feels too loud, my cure has always been to get lost on a ride — sometimes literally, if my sense of direction is acting up. But those accidental detours almost always lead somewhere beautiful.
Let's Work Together
©2025
Contact Now
Contact Me!
Let's create something wonderful together! I would love to be a part of it!
24/7 ish Support
Available in NYC