The day I almost became one with Iowa asphalt

This weekend, I delivered my wife to and from RAGBRAI - that legendary bike ride across Iowa that turns the entire state into one giant, rolling party. (Seriously. It's like Spring Break - for adults.)

Seeing my friends again reminded me why these connections matter so much. These are people I don't see nearly often enough, but when we're together, it's like no time has passed at all.

It also brought back a memory from a few years ago when I was actually riding.

Picture this: thousands of cyclists rolling across Iowa, and suddenly everyone hits a construction zone. We all know the drill - narrow space, everyone off their bikes, trying to navigate through in a controlled shuffle. It's organized chaos, but everyone stays pretty chill about it.

You've got two choices in these moments: hop off your bike entirely and walk beside it, or stay on and try to walk without your pedals whacking your ankles. That day, I chose option one. Smart choice, right?

Wrong.

I stepped off and immediately whacked the back of my foot. Hard. Really, really hard. So hard that I lost my balance and started falling backward. I had just enough time to think, "Oh, FABULOUS," before I prepared to hit the ground in front of hundreds of strangers.

And here's the thing - I never hit the ground.

The bikers around me caught me. People who didn't even know my name saw me falling and instinctively reached out. No hesitation. No looking around to see if someone else would handle it. They just acted.

It was one of those moments that stops you in your tracks. These weren't my friends. They weren't my family. They were complete strangers who had zero obligation to care whether I skull smacked the Iowa asphalt.

But they caught me anyway.

Overdramatic reenactment.

Here's what that moment taught me about real community: it's not about the number of people who follow you or like your posts. It's about the people who will literally catch you when you fall.

We live in a world obsessed with surface-level engagement. Double-taps and heart emojis. Comments that say "Great post!" but never dig deeper. Connections that feel impressive on paper but disappear the moment you actually need support.

But real community? Real support? That's different.

Real support is when someone goes out of their way for you. When they inconvenience themselves to help. When they catch you not because they have to, but because they genuinely care about what happens to you.

Those RAGBRAI riders didn't know me from Adam. But they saw someone who needed help, and they acted. No calculation. No "what's in it for me?" Just human beings caring for another human being.

That's the kind of community I want to build. Not the biggest. Not the loudest. But the most real.

These two just decided to write a cookbook together.

This is what I promise you at the Come Wright Inn: when you're falling backward, I'll be one of the people who catches you.

Not with empty platitudes or surface-level encouragement, but with real support. Real connection. Real care.

Because you deserve more than likes and hearts. You deserve to be surrounded by people who will inconvenience themselves to help you succeed. Who will catch you when you stumble. Who will show up when it matters.

That's what authentic service looks like. That's what real community feels like.

And that's exactly what we're building, one genuine connection at a time.

Ready to be caught? Or do some catching of your own?

Sometimes the most profound moments happen in the most ordinary places. What moment of unexpected support has stayed with you? Hit reply and share your story with me - I'd love to hear it.

Catch you later (see what I did there?)