I’m 54. Two years ago, I had a heart attack followed by triple bypass surgery. I still deal with high blood pressure, cholesterol challenges, and persistent joint and muscle pain — even though I eat clean, hit the gym regularly, mountain bike, and stay active.
But I keep moving.
I grew up as a metalhead and skater kid in LA, hitting gigs and concerts, and doing stupid shit. That kid’s still in here somewhere. And I’ve realized that we’ve all got that kid still in us… it’s just so easy to forget sometimes that they’re there.
That’s why I started Ride The Heavy.
I wanted to create a space to talk about the real shit. Getting older. Loneliness. Struggling. Hurting. All that weight that comes with just existing. I wanted to show people that being scared, being uncertain, having bad days—that’s not weakness. That’s just being human. And it doesn’t last forever.
I started with face cam videos, POV rides, and images with text overlays. People responded. They thanked me for being vulnerable. They said, “I thought I was the only one.” And that hit… in the best way.
Then Instagram killed my reach. The algorithm decided my message didn’t fit its engagement model. And honestly, that was a huge blow.
But this isn’t just about the algorithm. it’s about something deeper.
Ride The Heavy was always supposed to be two things at once:
- A release for me. Therapy. A place to process my own shit… my fears, pains, and truths.
- A light for others. Proof that you can be struggling and still be moving forward. That the heaviness is real, but it’s not permanent.
And yeah — if I can make money doing this authentically? If I can pay my bills by sharing what’s real and helping people feel less alone? That would be everything.
Because right now, I’m hanging on financially with web design work… and I’m 54 without a safety net. I’ve got things to share… things to say… and people seem to listen. I believe there’s a path forward here.
The only thing that gets me through hard moments is knowing: “I’ve been here before. This too shall pass.”
I want to be that voice for someone else.
Ride The Heavy… for those who refuse to quit.


