My Time at Trek

In 2020, thanks to my friend Ashley Booth, I took a risk I hadn’t planned on taking. I applied for the Mountain Bike position at Trek Bicycles. I got an interview — but not a second one. Instead, I was offered a second interview with the helmet team. When that came through, I just sort of shrugged and thought, “Why not? Let’s see where this goes.”

I had my second interview with the helmet designer, then a third with the project managers — then a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. The pressure was really mounting. Between the number of interviews, the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the weight of what the role represented, I started to feel overwhelmed. By the sixth interview, some past experiences were starting to haunt me — especially the enormous responsibility that comes with R&D in safety technology.When Trek extended their offer for the helmet design position, everything came to a head. The stress of the uncertain times, combined with the emotional weight of my past, brought me to a breaking point. That’s when I reached out to my friend Ilse Gort, a mentor of mine from college and in the years after.

I remember crying as we messaged back and forth. I opened up about my stepsister’s death in a quad bike accident, witnessing Peter Lenz die at the Moriwaki circuit, and unpacking how local MotoGP hero Nicky Hayden died in a cycling accident. All that trauma came pouring out, just as I stood in front of this newly opened door of responsibility. To me, accepting the role meant using my skills to make a difference — to help protect people in ways I hadn’t been able to for those I’d lost. But that realization also terrified me. What if I failed? What if someone got hurt because of something I missed — the way Sara’s helmet failed her?

Ilse helped bring me back down to earth in that overwhelmed state. I’m forever grateful for her reassurance and encouragement. Without it, I would have declined the offer — and that would have been my biggest regret. It was also a turning point in how I viewed my past. In that moment, my experiences stopped being a source of crippling trauma. They became a driving force — one that pushed me and my skills to their limits, as I grew into the role.

Ilse helped bring me back down to earth in that overwhelmed state. I’m forever grateful for her reassurance and encouragement. Without it, I would have declined the offer — and that would have been my biggest regret. It was also a turning point in how I viewed my past. In that moment, my experiences stopped being a source of crippling trauma. They became a driving force — one that pushed me and my skills to their limits, as I grew into the role.

During my time at Trek, I worked on nearly every helmet — along with their individual components. The Solstice, Quantum, Dipper, Tyro, Velocis, Rally, Starvos, etc. There really wasn’t a helmet that I didn’t have a hand in — whether it was its development, modernization, or the ongoing refinement of details like fit pads, fit systems, or updated warning labels.

I was deeply invested in this role because of how closely because of it’s connection to my overall resolve. My dedication to R&D often went further than some others in design were willing to go. Trek had a guiding philosophy called “riding the ride” — truly placing yourself in the shoes of the person you're designing for — and that deeply resonated with my belief that empathy is the most important tool in product development.

Not every designer at Trek fully embraced riding the ride to the extent I did. For me, it wasn’t just a design principle — it was a commitment grounded in an intimate understanding of the cost of failure. Whether it came from insight or anxiety, I saw my willingness to go as far as I could to understand and protect our users as my greatest strength. I didn’t know what the designers at Bell or Fox were doing — But I’d be damned if the helmets and tech our team at Trek developed didn’t do a better job than anyone else’s.

I rode centuries, climbed mountains, broke bones, raced in competitions — anything I thought might help push our development further, or that our competitors wouldn’t have been willing to do or that they might have not thought of. As emotional as my untimely departure from Trek was, I would do it all again. In my relentless push to make the best helmets on the market, I found closure. Seeing my other stepsister Lorna’s kids wearing helmets that I developed, combined with knowing that there wasn’t a moment at Trek when I didn’t give 110%, made the untimely departure almost fulfilling. I did everything in my power, and my departure wasn’t due to my own or our team’s failures, but because of economics.

There is so much more I want to talk about — so many more memories and pressing projects — but those are currently under NDA. I really hope they come to fruition so that I can share more about my history at Trek. I am currently looking for new opportunities, and I hope to continue using my relentless drive in the development of safety technology in the cycling or motorsports industry.

If you’re interested, please check out my resume, background and feel free to reach out.

There wasn’t a single moment at Trek when I didn’t think about Sara.