Standing on that quiet dock at Duff Pond in Middleton Idaho, everything slowed down for a moment. Just me, the water, and the thoughts moving through my mind.
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Living simply has taught me that calm isn’t found, it’s chosen.

No matter what’s happening in the world or the news, we can choose calm.
We may not control the noise around us, but we do control how we respond. A steady breath. A quiet pause. A softer reaction. These small choices anchor us when everything else feels uncertain.

This week, let this peaceful view be your reminder:
You don’t have to absorb the chaos, you can be the calm.

Many years ago, I was sitting at the table with my young son, caught up in one of those simple-but-memorable conversations parents tend to carry with them. As we talked, he quietly gathered a few pennies and began balancing them on their edges. Patiently, carefully, completely focused.

One by one, the coins stood upright. Not because it was easy, but because he gave each one the attention and tiny adjustments it needed.

That moment has stayed with me. It showed me that balance is something we build, not something that magically appears.

In life, work, and everything in between, we’re all trying to strike a life balance. Not the perfect equilibrium (because that rarely exists), but a workable one, a version of balance that keeps us grounded, moving forward and aligned with what actually matters.

And just like those coins, the smallest adjustments can shift everything:

• A pause before reacting
• A boundary that protects your time
• A walk or bike ride that clears the mind
• Choosing presence over noise

As this new week begins, that simple moment at the table comes back to me. Balance isn’t a single achievement...it’s a practice. A continuous series of small choices that steady us, even when life feels anything but steady.

This week’s post is a little different.
I wanted to take a moment to focus on something that often gets overlooked, the incredible kindness that exists all across America, if we only slow down enough to notice it.

When I reached Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina, the end of my ride across America,
I thought I’d feel exhausted. Instead, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

Gratitude for the incredible people I met along the way. For strangers who offered meals, a place to rest, or a simple smile when I needed it most. For those who opened their homes, shared their stories,  and reminded me that kindness is alive and well.

And for the friends, family, and supporters who encouraged me from afar. Your messages, prayers, and financial help made this journey possible. Every mile was powered not just by pedals, but by your belief in me.

The scenery across this country was breathtaking, but it’s the people who made it unforgettable. From coast to coast, I saw the best of humanity: generosity without expectation, compassion without condition.

I’ll never forget Rough River State Park in Kentucky. It was Labor Day weekend, and the narrow mountain road leading there was packed with holiday travelers. Fast, impatient, and dangerous for a cyclist.

After several tense miles, I decided it was simply too risky to continue. I turned around and rode back to the small town I’d left that morning, planning to head out again early the next day when the roads were quieter.

In the parking lot of a small convenience store, I noticed a man sitting in his truck. His name was Frank. I pulled up beside him and started a conversation. We talked about the heavy traffic, and he said, “You could get hurt or worse on that road this weekend.”  He looked over his shoulder, then back at me and said,
“Come on, I’ll get you up there.”

He helped me load my bike and gear into the back of his truck and drove me the 12 or so miles to the state park. The evening I arrived, he paid for my campsite and offered me $20 to eat at the park’s buffet. When I hesitated, he insisted I take it. I thanked him sincerely, and we said our goodbyes.

That same evening, after Frank had gotten me safely to the park, another cyclist rolled in, Billy Mason, towing a small trailer behind his old bike. We greeted each other, and before long we were deep in conversation. Billy was a Kentucky native, a veteran, and homeless.

He told me that earlier in the day, he had stopped at a small restaurant and offered to clean the floors in exchange for a meal. The restaurant staff thanked him and gave him two Ziploc bags of spaghetti to take with him. As we sat talking, Billy reached into a small bag, pulled one out, and offered it to me. I told him thank you, but that I was fine. I’ll never forget that moment, a homeless gentleman offering me one of his meals. WOW!!!

We stayed up for hours under the stars talking about life, purpose, and the road ahead. Then Billy said something I’ll never forget:
“I don’t have much, but I want to give you something.”

I told him that wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. He went to his trailer, gently unwrapped a banjo from several old blankets, leaned against the wall, and began to play as he sang a Willie Nelson song. Soft, soulful, and full of heart.

When he finished, he looked at me and said,
“It’s not much, but it’s all I have.”

That moment stopped me in my tracks. It was raw, honest, and beautiful. A reminder that kindness doesn’t come from abundance; it comes from the heart.

We shook hands, and gave each other a hug. Two travelers from very different walks of life, connected in that moment by music and gratitude. We stayed up a while longer talking quietly before turning in for the night.

The next morning, while I was still in my tent, I heard someone gently tapping on the outside. I unzipped the flap and there was Frank, smiling and saying, “Come on, let’s go get you some breakfast.” He drove me to a nearby spot to eat before seeing me off on the next leg of my journey.

When the journey ended, I decided to donate my bike (affectionately named BobNick, in honor of my brother Bob, who I was riding in memory of, and my son Nick), who had enlisted in the military — to a local bike shop. The manager told me they work with local groups so they could pass it along to a veteran who needed it.
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It felt right knowing that the bike, and the story behind it, would keep rolling forward, carrying with it the spirit of love, loss, and hope that inspired every mile.

So as a new week begins, here’s my reminder to you...look for kindness, offer kindness, and take time to appreciate the beauty around you.

Join the conversation:
Leave your comments below. Share your own story of kindness, or a moment of reflection that changed your life.

At Birch Bay in Washington State, there’s a simple path that leads straight from the parking lot to the beach. It’s narrow with just enough room for one person, framed by tall grass and a hint of salt in the air. You can’t see the water until the very end, but you can hear the waves calling ahead.

A Simple Path, a Bigger View
It’s not a long or twisting trail, just a short walk through the brush. Yet those few steps open to something expansive, the bay stretching wide, the sky vast and clear. Sometimes it’s the smallest efforts that lead to the biggest moments.

Everyday Meaning
Many days feel like that narrow path. Ordinary, practical, maybe even uneventful. But those everyday steps are what lead to open views and new perspectives. Progress doesn’t always feel grand while we’re in it, but it often leads somewhere worth going.

Today’s Reflection
Whether it’s a decision you’ve been thinking about, a project that feels small, or a goal that’s just out of sight. Take the next step. You may be closer than you think to a view that changes everything.

As Fall settles in and the days grow a little shorter, it’s the perfect time to pause and reflect on what truly drives us. We often chase success, believing that once we achieve a certain goal, land that job, or reach that milestone, happiness will follow. But what if it’s actually the other way around?

When we focus first on cultivating happiness, gratitude, contentment and peace, success tends to flow naturally. A happy person brings energy, creativity, and resilience into everything they do. Whether it’s tackling a project, navigating life’s challenges, or simply enjoying a quiet moment by the water, a joyful mindset opens doors that effort alone can’t unlock.

The image above, captured along a calm stretch of river in Idaho, shows how happiness works: it flows around obstacles, softening rough edges and creating its own path forward. You don’t have to wait for everything to be perfect before choosing happiness. Start where you are, with what you have and let joy guide you toward what’s next.

Take a moment today to smile, breathe deeply, and notice something good around you. That simple act may just be the spark that fuels your next success.

I took this photo a few years ago at Eagle Island State Park in Idaho. It was late summer, and wildfires nearby had filled the air with smoke. The haze softened everything, the light, the colors, even the sounds. The sun hung low, mirrored perfectly in the still water, and the trees stood quiet above their reflections.

Even with the smoke, the evening felt calm and peaceful. It showed that clarity isn’t the only path to beauty sometimes it’s the soft edges and muted light that reveal something deeper.

Whether you’re chasing a goal, building better habits, or living with more intention, take a few minutes today to look around and notice where you are. Progress often hides in the quiet moments and like that smoky sunset, it’s worth appreciating.

This photo was taken years ago at Eagle Island State Park, a favorite fishing and walking spot for locals. You’ll see people out with their dogs, a few folks with fishing poles, and others just taking in the quiet. It’s the kind of place where people nod as they pass, maybe share a few words about how the fish are biting. You never know who you’ll meet or how a small conversation might shape your day, or theirs.

Everyone’s out there for their own reason...to clear their head, to cast a line, to stretch their legs, or just to let the dog lead the way. Each person following their own small path, but somehow, all those paths cross.

Finding your own path in life works a lot like that. It doesn’t have to be dramatic or far away. It can be local, familiar, and simple. What matters is that it’s yours...that quiet, steady route that fits who you are and how you want to live.

So take a walk, slow down, notice the little things, and trust where your steps lead. You never know how the journey might open up  or who might walk a little of it with you.

On my cross-country bike ride in 2017, I came across this piece of forgotten playground equipment in Wyoming. Standing quietly in the grass, unused yet unbroken, it stirred something familiar: a reminder of simpler times.

For many of us, playgrounds were where courage was built. We climbed higher than we thought we could, tested our limits, and gained confidence one rung at a time. No screens, no distractions — just the challenge in front of us and the joy of being outside.

Fast forward to today, and life feels more complicated. Screens fill our hours, notifications crowd our thoughts, and quiet moments are rare. But seeing this weathered jungle gym reminded me that strength often comes from simplicity — from unplugging, playing, moving, and being present in the world around us.

​The lessons we learned back then still hold true now: courage is built step by step, confidence grows when we push ourselves, and sometimes the best moments come when we put the phone down and look up.

So as we begin this week, I’ll leave you with a question:
When was the last time you truly unplugged and gave yourself space to climb into simpler, lasting lessons?

Mondays give us a chance to reset — a fresh start to shape the week ahead. That’s why I love Motivational Monday: it’s a reminder to focus on what’s right in front of us.

This week’s thought is simple yet powerful: We only get one day at a time.

The photo above was taken several years ago at Duff Pond in Middleton, Idaho, where the fall colors came alive in reflections of gold, orange, and green. Just like the season, the trees change gradually, leaf by leaf, day by day. Their steady transformation reminds us that progress isn’t about rushing — it’s about showing up each day and letting the small steps add up to something beautiful.

We don’t get to relive yesterday, and tomorrow isn’t promised. What we do have is today — and that makes it the most important day of all. Monday reminds us that every week, every season, and every goal starts here, with the choices we make right now.

When I rode my bike near McKenzie Pass in Oregon, I was struck by the contrast of the rugged rock fields in the foreground and the snow-capped peaks shining in the distance. At first glance, the terrain appears harsh, almost unwelcoming—jagged stone, weathered stumps, and lifeless ground. But lift your eyes just a little higher, and you see the mountain standing steady and clear, framed by blue sky and fresh clouds.

This landscape reminds me that challenges in life often work the same way. In the middle of difficulty, the path can feel messy, broken, and unclear. Yet it’s in those very challenges that clarity begins to form. The rough ground shapes our strength. The obstacles sharpen our perspective. And just beyond the struggle, new possibilities rise into view.

The lesson here isn’t to avoid the rock fields but to move through them. To trust that clarity often comes after hardship, not before it. When we stay the course, we eventually reach that moment when the fog lifts, the sky opens, and the mountain shows itself in all its brilliance.

As we begin this week, let’s remember: challenge builds clarity. What feels tough today might be the very thing that helps us see tomorrow more clearly.