Pretty much all of the race directors I work with and talk to already believe content matters. You see, the problem is not belief. It's really about expectation.

Content marketing has been tied to the idea of virality ... BIG reach ... FAST growth ... a post that suddenly BLOWS UP. That expectation actually undermines good work. Why? How?

When content does not spike or blow up, it feels like failure. When nothing takes off, people assume they are doing it wrong. So they change formats, chase hacky trends, or stop altogether. Many feel deeply discouraged (it happens to me, too).

In practice, content that works rarely looks exciting while it is happening. It looks consistent ... yawn.

If you have ever stood in the middle of a gravel race with a camera in your hand, you have seen it happen. A rider comes through a section of road that feels like the middle of nowhere. You grab a shot, post it later that night, and suddenly thousands of people who have never even heard of that town are paying attention.

That is what happened in Douglas during BorderLands Gravel.

Most people see a gravel race as a single day on the calendar.

Riders show up, roll out, race their course, and head home. But if you have ever organized a race or worked in outdoor recreation, you know there is more going on beneath the surface.

The real learning begins after the race, when the surveys start drifting back in. This is where the story reveals itself.

On Thursday, October 23rd, I will be here not as a racer but as one of the featured speakers for the Spirit World Fundraiser for the Arizona Trail, an evening that blends storytelling, community, and purpose. The dinner, hosted at the Patagonia Lumber Company, raises funds for the Arizona Trail Association’s ongoing work maintaining and expanding one of the most iconic long-distance trails in the country.

If you work in rural tourism, you’ve probably asked it (or at least felt it), "How do we compete with places like Sedona, Moab, or Bend?" Their Instagram feeds are full of sweeping drone shots, pro athletes, polished campaigns, and sponsored ads. Their budgets stretch farther. Their names are already on the map.

And yet, here you are. A small town with one part-time staffer, a tight marketing budget, and a whole lot of untapped beauty.

So what can you do?

For small-town tourism, there’s a common trap: trying to appeal to everyone.

You end up with vague messaging, generic photos, and a website that says everything … and nothing at the same time.

And I get it. When you’re tasked with promoting your whole town, every event, every season, every “hidden gem,” you want to cast a wide net. Maybe … just maybe, someone out there will bite. At least nibble?

But here’s the hard truth I even have to remind myself for the work I do: when you try to speak to everyone, you end up connecting with no one.