Over the past few months, I’ve been reflecting a lot—not just on Trail Builder Magazine, but on the broader journey of building brands, launching projects, and trying to create something meaningful.


When I first set out, everything was personal. Each post, each article, and each project felt like an extension of my own story. Whether it was telling the gritty, inspiring stories of trail builders, or working with small towns to spotlight their hidden adventures through rural tourism, it was all rooted in real people, real places, and a deep sense of purpose.


But here’s the hard truth: the bigger things get, the easier it is to lose that connection.

As the magazine grew, so did the metrics: more followers, more email subscribers, more ad pitches, more expectations. And somewhere along the way, I found myself chasing numbers more than I was chasing meaning.


This isn’t just a magazine thing. It’s a brand-building thing. It’s a social media thing. It’s an entrepreneurship thing.

We live in a world that constantly measures success by impressions, likes, shares, open rates, and revenue. And don’t get me wrong—those numbers matter. They’re how we gauge growth and opportunity. But they can’t be the soul of the work.


I’ve seen this tension firsthand working with rural communities trying to revitalize their tourism economies. It’s easy to believe the answer is just better marketing or more polished content. But the real magic—the kind that actually moves people—is in authenticity. It’s about telling stories that are grounded, human, and real, even when the algorithms beg for flashier trends.

The same goes for personal brands. It’s tempting to chase what “works” online, but if it isn’t rooted in who you are and what you believe in, it’s empty. And eventually, that emptiness catches up.


For me, that emptiness looked like creative fatigue. Weeks of grinding through articles, social posts, newsletters, meetings, sponsorship pitches—and realizing that somewhere in all that hustle, I had started to drift from the mission that fueled me in the first place.


So here’s my recalibration:

I want everything I create—whether it’s an article, a brand collaboration, a social media post, a new coffee release, or a tourism campaign—to be built on the same foundation: purpose over popularity. Connection over clicks. Story over stats.


That might mean slower growth sometimes. It might mean saying no to opportunities that don’t align. It might mean resisting the pressure to churn out content just to feed the machine.


And honestly? I’m okay with that.

Because at the end of the day, I’d rather build something real—something rooted in the dirt and dreams of people and places that deserve to be seen and heard—than rack up hollow wins chasing someone else’s definition of success.


Thanks for being here, for following along, and for reminding me that the best work always starts with authenticity.