Most people think of content marketing as promotion.

You know … a post here. A photo there. Maybe a push when tickets go on sale or when a season kicks off.

That framing is the problem at hand. Why?

For rural communities and outdoor events especially, content marketing isn't a campaign. Instead, it's infrastructure and the system that makes everything else work.

If people don't know who you are, where you are, or why your place or event matters, nothing else matters. Not your website. Not your registration page. Not your economic impact goals.

Over the past several years, working alongside small towns, trail organizations, and race organizers, I've noticed the same pattern repeat itself again and again. The places and events that struggle most aren't lacking quality experiences. They're lacking visibility, clarity, and trust. Content is what quietly builds all three.

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 a cool November morning in Douglas, Arizona, I watched something simple and beautiful happen. City staff showed up early and stuck around. Business owners propped open their doors before sunrise. Local ranchers were active not only on race day, but also in planning leading up to the event. Artists opened their venue for the festivities. People were excited, curious, and proud that a gravel race had landed in their town.

Even leaders from Agua Prieta, Sonora, Mexico, were part of this race. That moment hit me. A shared border, shared history, and now a shared event.

It was clear from the start that this race mattered to Douglas.

Some time ago, I joined a small volunteer crew on a Saturday morning in a location far from home in Portland. The kind of group you find in almost every town. Three regulars. Two new faces. A part-time trail steward who was also filling the role of event coordinator, social media manager, grant writer, and coffee provider. They were doing incredible work. Cutting drains. Brushing back corridor. Shaping turns.

But here is what stood out to me. No one outside that group knew that any of it had happened.

In the foothills of the Rockies, a small town once known for its sawmills is humming again, not from chainsaws but from trail crews, mountain bikers, and visiting families grabbing coffee before heading out to ride. Further away, former coal towns in West Virginia are experiencing a similar revival, their new “black gold” being the dirt under mountain bike tires.

Across the U.S., trails are emerging as one of the most reliable economic development tools for small, rural communities. They bring visitors, create jobs, and support local businesses in ways that reach far beyond tourism. When built and managed well, trails become infrastructure that fuels entrepreneurship, attracts new residents, and diversifies economies once dependent on extraction industries.

On a cool fall morning in southern Oregon, the parking lot at the base of Dollar Mountain was alive with that distinct energy that only comes when a long-awaited project finally opens to the public. Trucks and vans loaded with bikes lined the parking lot and road. Riders clipped on helmets, swapped greetings and stories, and set off to ride and explore.

You could feel it before the first tire even hit dirt. This wasn’t just another ribbon-cutting grand opening. Instead, it was the start of something bigger.

I’m back in Portland this week after a whirlwind trip to Arizona, which included speaking at the Spirit World fundraiser for the Arizona Trail. What is funny is that even though I spent a good amount of time writing and prepping for this speech leading up to the event, when it was time actually to speak, I pivoted.

I spend every day in the classroom, Monday through Friday, teaching undergrad students. Over the years, I’ve developed my own style for how I teach. Giving a one-way speech as a monologue isn’t necessarily my jam, so when it came time to speak, I set aside my notes and tried to make it interactive and a two-way conversation about “gravel as the gateway to becoming a trail town.”

While I have repeatedly touched on this topic, I wanted to revisit it and share the contents of my speech, even though I didn’t touch on everything that night in Patagonia. If I were to give a “proper” speech, this is what I would’ve shared ...

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 are exploring influencer marketing for your town or region, it is easy to assume success comes from follower counts or fancy production value. It does not. The real currency of influence is trust.

In a world flooded with content, people have learned to tune out anything that feels too polished or self-promotional. What they do not tune out is someone they believe.