As a means of introducing you to this website and the work that it is promoting, I want to share with you more than you would ever want to know about my work and personal life.
The tagline of the website describes me as an “Author, Educator, and Occasional Adventurer.” While all of that may be true, it could just as easily describe me as a husband, father, grandfather (a role I particularly relish), retired school administrator, retired university instructor, track and field enthusiast, huge fan of the Olympics, traveler, fitness enthusiast, bicyclist, hiker, former runner, amateur yoga practitioner, regular meditator, fan of good food, breakfast cook, lover of good wine and good bourbon, huge fan of the beach (though not necessarily of the water), voracious reader and book collector, story teller, and fan of contemporary jazz.
On an even more personal level, I could be described as an introvert, a shy individual who worked hard to become more outgoing in a very public profession, hard worker, goal-driven, loyal, sincere, honest, frugal, and a creature of habit.
Of varying degrees of interest are the following facts about my life:
I was born in 1957 in a small town outside of Kansas City, Missouri and grew up in another small town around ten miles away.
I was a bookish child, and showed an avid interest in American History. At a freakishly young age I became a student of the Civil War, an interest that has continued into adulthood. Three of the most memorable days of my adult life were devoted to, prior to attending a conference in Washington, D.C., walking the Civil War battlefields of Gettysburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville, with a side trip to Mount Vernon on my way back to the city.
In high school I participated in football and basketball, but found the greatest degree of success in track and field, winning multiple conference and district titles in the shot put and discus. During my senior year, I finished second at the state track meet in the shot put. Though recruited as a thrower in college, I decided to forego participating in collegiate track to focus on academics. It’s a decision for which I have some regret to this day.
I was a good but not particularly focused student in high school, though I graduated as valedictorian of my class.
I attended Northwest Missouri State University in Maryville, a smaller institution that has become best known for its multiple national championships in football and men’s basketball. I majored in History and Social Science Education with a goal of becoming a teacher and coach. While I had been a rather haphazard student in high school, I worked hard in college, taking great pride in my performance in the history courses in which I enrolled, and ultimately graduated with highest honors.
Upon graduation I accepted a position as a high school American History and Government teacher in a school district a few miles from where I grew up. Apart from two years in which I began my administrative career in another high school, I would spend the next thirty years in that school district.
In addition to my teaching assignment, I coached football, basketball, and boys’ track and field, the latter of which I served as head coach. Our track teams were always competitive, winning three district titles in my eight years as coach and finishing as high as second in the state track meet. Though my track coaching career ended more than thirty years ago, track and field remains one of the great passions in my life.
While teaching, in 1985, I completed a Master of Arts degree in Educational Administration from the University of Missouri – Kansas City. In 1991, I completed an Education Specialist Degree in Educational Administration from Central Missouri State University, now known as the University of Central Missouri. In 2000, I completed a Doctor of Education degree in Educational Leadership from the University of Missouri – Columbia. The title of my dissertation was “Student Success in Missouri Essential Schools.” Though I was pleased with the research and writing that went into that lengthy tome, I am confident that in the decades since it was first placed on a shelf in Ellis Library in Columbia, this hefty manuscript has never been opened.
Near the beginning of my second year of teaching, another assistant football coach casually mentioned that his sister had moved to Kansas City to pursue a Master’s degree in Speech and Language Pathology at the University of Kansas Medical Center. Through some clandestine manipulation on the part of this fellow coach and his wife, I soon met Bev Ricker. A short time later we went on our first date and we were soon inseparable. Neither of our lives would be the same, and around 11 months later we were married.
Separately in college at Northwest Missouri State University and Murray State University in Kentucky, which Bev attended right out of high school, we both began running for fitness. We were soon running weekend races, including 10k runs and half-marathons. With only a few job-related interruptions, my enjoyment from fitness running would continue for over 35 years and Bev continues to occasionally run to this day. We purchased our first road bikes, a Raleigh for Bev and a Schwinn for me, and we began completing weekend rides of eight to twelve miles, seemingly long for our legs not yet acclimated to the movements of cycling. At the time, we could not have imagined that 35 years later we would average 70 miles a day for a month and a half as we rode from California to Florida.
By the summer of 1984, Bev and I had been married for three years and felt we were ready for home ownership. We purchased what was for us a nice starter home located between our respective school districts. On the afternoon we closed on the purchase of our home , we had an appointment with our family doctor to confirm that Bev was pregnant with our first child. The following March our son was born, with his sister to follow two years later.
With one graduate degree in educational administration completed and a second started, it was soon time to put that advanced education to direct use. In 1987, I accepted a position as secondary principal in a small school district in west central Missouri. In many respects this was the most challenging position of my career, and it was certainly the most profound learning experience of my professional life. Bev worked in a half-time speech therapist position for the school district, and in many respects our two young children thrived in that environment.
In my second year in this position I learned that the principal for whom I had previously taught had announced his retirement, and with some great fortune I was selected as his replacement. With that job change we returned to a community we knew well, people we liked and respected, and a location closer to my family, no small factor given the age of our two little toddlers. We purchased a house on some small acreage, a home in which we lived for over three decades.
Though still very busy, the transition offered us more opportunities to maintain our fitness regimen, most of which we had foregone in our previous setting. We began running again, short distances at first but eventually returning to run the Hospital Hill Half-Marathon, the very hilly and challenging run we had completed almost yearly before starting our family. And we dusted off our old road bikes. We completed an MS 150 bike tour, an overnight charity ride from Kansas City to Boonville, Missouri. We trained extensively (though not enough) as we prepared for the ride, which would include a first day distance of 85 miles (far longer than we had ever ridden) and a second day of 65 miles. Learning the lesson that being in good running shape and good cycling shape were two different issues, we ended the first day exhausted, struggling to garner enough energy to erect our tent on the grass of the Missouri State Fairgrounds. Fearing we would not sufficiently recover to complete the ride the second day, we learned the second profound lesson of this adventure: the body is far more resilient than we had imagined. Facing tough headwinds, we fairly easily completed the second day of only 65 miles, largely enjoying ourselves and gaining satisfaction in our accomplishment.
After six years as high school principal, I transitioned into a district-level position in the same district and would spend the next several years as assistant superintendent. This new position encompassed innumerable areas of responsibility but was less time-consuming than my previous role as principal. I found the work to be particularly enjoyable, and as our two children were entering their teenage years, I was able to attend virtually all of their many activities.
With that increased time, Bev and I were able to begin working toward fulfilling a fitness goal we both had shared our entire married life, the completion of a marathon. We trained through the summer, running a long run each weekend while not yet committing to a particular race. After a final 23-mile run on a cold, wind-swept Sunday afternoon, we signed up for the White Rock Marathon in Dallas scheduled for three weeks later. As we crossed the finish line on an unseasonably warm December afternoon, we looked at each other with expressions of gratitude that we had reached this goal together.
I soon transitioned into the position of superintendent of the school district in which I had served most of my career. I would remain in that position for the final seven years of my time in K-12 education. By now, both of our children were in high school and in the coming years each would graduate and go on to complete postsecondary degrees and training needed for their respective career fields.
In time, I began to approach retirement eligibility under Missouri law, and at the beginning of the 2008-09 school year I announced that I would retire the following June. That April I accepted a position as an administrator and instructor in the School of Education at the University of Missouri – Kansas City. I continued in various roles at the university until I finally retired from all duties eight years later. It was gratifying and enjoyable work, a distinct highlight of my career, and I particularly relished the opportunity to work with the next generation of school district leaders.
Bev had also transitioned into a higher education position, working with students seeking graduate degrees in speech and language pathology. And with both of our children now pursuing careers in distant cities (San Francisco, New York, and Chicago), our more flexible schedules allowed us to begin pursuing long-time fitness and adventure goals. The Katy Trail is a rails-to-trails conversion running nearly the width of the state of Missouri. We had long thought about riding our bikes from one end of the trail to the other, carrying all of our clothing and gear and staying in historic hotels and bed-and-breakfast inns. So in August of 2013, we spent five days riding from Clinton to just past St. Charles, Missouri, a distance that with side trips totaled 260 miles. Riding on a largely flat former trail bed, we encountered a few mechanical issues and other challenges but completed the trip with a great sense of satisfaction.
In 2014 I retired from my primary position with the university and Bev also largely retired, having moved from her higher education position to a private practice in speech therapy. Though I continued to teach an online class each semester for three more years and Bev still worked with an occasional client, we suddenly had time to do largely whatever we wanted.
Anyone visiting our home would notice the predominance of books, numerous bookcases lined with volumes of many genres, almost all of which at least one of us has read. One of those bookcases is filled to overflowing with writings about what might be called “adventure travel.” Included are books detailing hikes on the Appalachian Trail, Pacific Coast Trail, and Camino de Santiago, accounts of ascents of Everest, K2, Denali, and others, trips across the United States by bicycle and on foot, and trips across the Grand Canyon and down the Colorado River. Many of the journeys detailed in these travel books we considered “out of our league,” like climbs of Mount Everest because of our lack of skill (and lack of a willingness to possibly die in the pursuit of a goal) or beyond our level of commitment, such as devoting the better part of a year to traversing the Appalachian Trail. But some of the other trips really piqued our interest, though earlier in our lives they represented little more than adventurous dreams.
One such trip that greatly intrigued us was a hike across the Grand Canyon. Given the logistical issues inherent in this simple but surprisingly complex trip (including procuring limited backcountry permits and camping reservations that were even more scarce, and arranging for the five-hour shuttle either to or from the North Rim),we determined we needed to work with a travel company to complete this challenging trip. Bev and I joined a group of seven other hikers and two guides from Road Scholar, a travel company catering largely to older travelers. We began our hike with a two-day descent down to Phantom Ranch, the historic and rustic hub at the base of the canyon. The views were stunning, the changes in climate were profound as we descended into the canyon (we had started in long sleeves and pants given the cool temperatures on the North Rim), and the effect of the descent on our legs was greater than we had anticipated. We carried all our clothing and equipment as well as our portion of the food that would be prepared by the guides. We enjoyed getting to know the guides and our fellow hikers, we relished the amazing scenery we experienced, and when we topped the last switchback and found ourselves among the tourists walking along the South Rim, we experienced an even greater sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. Suddenly the challenges detailed in those “adventure travel” books in our bookcase seemed much more doable.
I had long been fascinated by the notion of cycling across the United States. But I would never tackle such a challenge without Bev. A cross-country bike trip seemed like just another of those adventurous dreams… until Bev came to share my excitement. Once that happened, our dream of biking across the United States quickly transitioned from a fantasy to something that would be disappointing if it didn’t occur.
At our age (both would be 60 in the fall of 2017 when we hoped to complete our trip) and given our limited cycling experience and mechanical knowledge, we soon surmised that we needed to work with a travel company that would provide sufficient support as we traversed the country. Additionally we wanted to devote the summer to increasing our mileage in preparing for our tour, and as a result we determined that a fall tour would best serve our needs. In researching travel companies we quickly zeroed in on Trans-America Cycling, a two-man operation based in Northwest Arkansas. This choice would be fortuitous, as the two TAC support guides would be instrumental to our ultimate success.
The tour began on October 1 with a symbolic dipping of the back tires in the Pacific Ocean in San Diego. It would end (we had hoped) on November 15 with a dipping of the front tires in the Atlantic Ocean in St. Augustine, Florida. Interspersed with four rest days, for those 46 days we would average around 70 miles of riding each day, including numerous days of 90 miles or more, and two days in excess of 100 miles (Our first “century” rides). We rode through San Diego, Phoenix, El Paso, Austin, and Tallahassee, but mostly we rode on isolated and largely non-descript roads, often in the middle of nowhere. We rotated through three sets of riding clothes and a three or four “regular” outfits, relished the customary two beers and the massive meals at the end of each ride, and regained our appreciation for what might be called the “little things in life.” Bev and I spent 46 days with nine great guys (Bev was the only female in the group), and when we finally reached St. Augustine we were both excited to be finished and saddened that our journey was coming to an end.
Five days before we were scheduled to reach St. Augustine, the tour nearly complete, one of the other riders was struck by a fast-moving car while working on his bike on the side of an isolated highway. The quick work of his riding partner possibly saved his life, but with severe injuries this rider faced months of grueling rehabilitation. Once we learned that the prognosis for our fellow rider was good, our next thoughts turned to sadness that this new friend who had ridden with the group for the first 2,700 miles or so would not be with us for the last 300. His ride was ended, and he would not be with the group when we reached the Atlantic four days later.
A year to the day later we were back in St. Augustine to witness our once-injured riding mate finish his cross-country ride, 411 days after leaving San Diego. His rehab had been arduous, but he had worked so hard and made tremendous progress, and it was such a blessing for Bev and me, along with four other riders and the two guides, to watch him complete his journey.
During our cross-country trip, every few days I sent to family and friends an e-mail update describing in considerable detail how the trip was progressing, any problems we were experiencing, and in general providing a running account of our journey. The response from those who followed this blog was enthusiastic, and when we got home we learned that our account of our trip had attained a much broader following than we had realized. It was during the actual trip that I first contemplated expanding that e-mail blog into a book-length manuscript, one that would not only describe our journey but also include an even more personal aspect. We learned a great many lessons about cycling during the course of our 1½ months on the road. While riding on some isolated road in who knows where, I thought about these many lessons and how they could be applied not only to cycling, but to everyday life as well. But I questioned whether our trip was unique enough to be worthy of publication. When we traveled to Florida a year after the end of our tour to support our teammate in the completion of his trip, we came to realize how closely the group had bonded during the tour, and how this near-tragic accident had forged those bonds into even stronger ones. Culminating with our joyous reunion in Florida, I decided that this story was powerful and worthy of telling. The result is One Ride at a Time: Life Lessons Learned on a Cross-Bicycle Ride, purchase and availability information about which can be found on this website.
In the fall of 2015, Bev accepted a speech therapy “travel position” with a school district in Mountain View, California, in the heart of Silicon Valley. For 2½ months while Bev completed her school district duties, I played homemaker in our one-bedroom apartment, cooking and cleaning and doing laundry in addition to utilizing the fitness center in the complex and walking and running on nearby trails. We took side trips to San Francisco, Sonoma County, Sacramento, Monterey, Big Sur, and Santa Cruz. It was a wonderful experience. It also represented the start of a research and writing project that has continued for the past half-decade.
While living in Mountain View, I regularly took the hour-long light rail trip into San Jose to work in the library of San Jose State University as I began to research the life and career of the athlete I consider to be the greatest Olympian in history. My ultimate intention was to possibly write a biography of this incomparable athlete, something that my research suggested had not previously been completed. That research and writing process has continued for several years, interrupted only by a cross-country bicycle trip and the writing of the book about that journey. The research process took me to numerous locations throughout the Midwest, and writing about this individual has truly been a labor of love. I hope to complete and publish this manuscript in the near future.
A question we occasionally receive, but one we ask ourselves with even greater regularity, is simply “what’s next?,” meaning what is our next big adventure. We still have goals we want to pursue, and have even done initial research regarding future trips. We’ll keep those thoughts to ourselves until they come closer to reality, but even as we approach our mid-sixties we don’t yet believe we are “done.” Some physical ailments served as temporary impediments, and then the pandemic hit. But we hope and believe, and on some level instinctively know, that there are more adventures in our future.
