My Path, My Ride - Ruth Black

Over the next few years, I found myself joining more group rides, racing some local beach-side triathlons, and even joining a few entry-level stage races. By the time we moved to Houston, I had upgraded to a full carbon bike and hired a coach (hey Jason!). I got serious with my racing and joined a team sponsored by a local bike shop. The cycling community in Houston circa 2015 was a special place. We enjoyed post-ride pints from Karbach Brewery, which was still locally owned. The MS150 charity ride was a staple event on everyone’s training calendars. The infamous Hotter ‘N Hell Triple Threat didn’t know the word “gravel” yet. Our beloved Memorial Park summer criterium series brought weekly competition that allowed me to gradually climb to a Women’s Category 3 racer. Natural disasters struck our city nearly every year, and the community rebuilding was simply incredible to witness. We formed deep friendships through the good times and the bad. Many of those relationships are still thriving today.

Racing bikes is surprisingly fun. I loved the tactics, thrilling speeds, the team camaraderie, and even the pain. Luckily, the only injuries I sustained were in cyclocross: one from a poor berm line execution and the other involving my helmet and a tree. Ouch. Eventually, I felt like I hit a plateau in my racing prospects as I doubled down on my professional career goals and looked to start a family. The core memories of my racing years boil down to lots of tacos, grueling sprint finishes, and amazing friendships. A few top podium steps, too! Racing taught me a lot about competition, but some of the most transformative miles were far quieter.

Before we had kids, I logged countless miles on the White Oak Bayou bike path commuting to work: fifteen miles each way, several days per week. Dawn Patrol. Humid, loaded panniers, sunrises and sunsets. Time alone with my thoughts, with the occasional wave to a stranger. My commuter bike became a way to disconnect from frustrating big-city traffic and reconnect with myself. I learned how important solo recharge time is for my mental health, which was timely because then life shifted.

In 2018 we started our beautiful family, and I took a pause from cycling for a few years. Growing two tiny humans changes your body, and your priorities. Time is more precious, energy is a scarce commodity, and spandex fits differently. I defaulted back to running as a more time-efficient sport, but eventually I found my way back in the saddle. As our kids grew, we took them along for adventure rides (significantly easier effort than pushing our double jogging stroller, let me tell you) and got them onto balance bikes. The pure joy in their faces when they graduated to pedal bikes is something I’ll never forget. Freedom in its purest form – kids can choose their own speed, their own route, and their own destinations. My kids have some of the best micro adventures in our street culdesac thanks to their two-wheeled machines.

Bikes became an even bigger piece of my life when I joined SRAM three years ago. Moving from a Fortune 20 company to the bike industry was a startling transition. The culture felt refreshingly human. Power suits and boardrooms were replaced by branded t-shirts and denim overalls. Career development focuses on relationships and team delivery rather than climbing invisible ladders as quickly as possible. Employee performance isn’t measured by quarterly earnings, but by whether a rider somewhere in the world feels more capable and empowered because of what we’ve created. The people at SRAM have incredible technical curiosity, deep product knowledge, and passion for our brand’s heritage and future. It’s an awesome company to work for.

One example of this? SRAM actively supports employees giving their time in the community. A few months into the new job, I was invited to serve on the board of PikeRide, our local nonprofit eBike share. Supporting PikeRide has completely reshaped how I think about cycling’s role in a community. My early experiences with bikes were in pursuit of athletic endeavors and social fun, but the reality is that bikes are a critical piece of city infrastructure. Access to affordable transportation changes lives. PikeRide eBikes help low-income individuals move independently: to gain and maintain employment, reach medical appointments, build financial stability, and even stay housed. Equitable transportation is not a romantic concept; it’s critical to a thriving city. I’m so proud of this nonprofit’s impact, the support from our municipal leaders, and for companies like SRAM who believe in the power of bicycles.