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The able world and the physically disabled world barely overlap. Not because people do not care. Because they almost never end up in the same room.
So we make the room. Neurodivergent adults and people with physical disabilities spend several hours inside a real workplace, with a real team, doing real work. The company opens the doors and lends the time. We manage everything else.
It is the smallest version of the world we are after. It is where we start.
December 1985. A snowy Saturday in Mustang, OK. I was 12, and mom gave me what money she had left in her purse so I could go bowling with friends. I recall having $5 left over and knew this meant I could buy my mom a gift for Christmas. Somewhere between the bowling alley and home, I lost my $5.
Crushed, I got a bowl of ice cream, sat down to watch TV and drown my sorrows. ABC Wide World of Sports was airing the Ironman World Championship Triathlon from Kona, HI. I witnessed the best endurance athletes in the world swimming 2.4 miles in the ocean. Ride 112 miles in the hot lava fields and then run a full marathon. They looked destroyed. Something that day lit a spark. I knew what I was watching...mattered.
That's the thing about small moments. Losing $5 is nothing. It's also the reason for everything that came after.
Twenty-three years later, I fnally started training for my first triathlon. In 2017, I was invited to compete in the Ironman World Championships that I had watched as a 12-year old. My entire life I had my mom's voice in my head saying: "Follow Through," and it had always been about getting there. Then somewhere in the lava fields, a voice inside said: "You're meant to do more."
Follow through points inward. Do more points outward.
Give somebody with a different ability the feeling of crossing their own finish line. That was it. That was the objective.
I knew nothing about this world. What equipment you need? How you train for 140.6 miles when you are doing it as a team of two instead of alone and how you find a family willing to say, “yes” to a day like that.
So naturally I bought a custom racing cart before I had spoken to a single family.
Turned out I did not have to look far. Bryce Wooten's family had been in my life for years. My son grew up with him. I knew Bryce. I did not know Bryce. What began as a simple half marathon in Oklahoma City in 2018, led to life changing finish lines for both of us over the next 5 years. In 2022, we raced the Ironman World Championships in Kona…together. Never did I imagine that in 5 years that I would be back to that start line after following that voice that told me: “you’re meant to do more.”
I went in thinking I was the one giving Byrce an experience. He taught me his world, his patience, and what inclusion actually looks like from the inside.
Two years later, I went back as a guide for Carla, who lives with autism. She did every mile on her own. My job was to keep her safe. Her job was to embrace the day…and did she ever.
Two different partnerships, same lesson twice. Neither of them needed rescuing.
They needed a start line.
Almost nobody is building those.
Half a day. Your facility, your team, real work. Neurodivergent adults and people with physical disabilities spend several hours inside a working environment most of them have never been invited into.
You provide the space and the staff time. We handle everything else. You're the person who can say yes to this.
If it isn't your call, you know whose it is. That isn't the lesser contribution. It's usually the one that actually moves.
Cold outreach from us gets filtered. A note from you gets read the same day. You've spent a career building the kind of trust that opens a calendar. This is what it's for.
Your company, your board, an industry group, a nonprofit you serve. The talk is how this travels, and every room he's in is a room where somebody decides to do something.
Maybe none of those are yours to give right now. Then do the one small thing you've been putting off, and tell Rian about it. That isn't a consolation prize. That's the whole idea.
Half a day. Your facility, your team, real work. Neurodivergent adults and people with physical disabilities spend several hours inside a working environment most of them have never been invited into.You provide the space and the staff time. We handle everything else. You're the person who can say yes to this.
If it isn't your call, you know whose it is. That isn't the lesser contribution. It's usually the one that actually moves.
Cold outreach from us gets filtered. A note from you gets read the same day. You've spent a career building the kind of trust that opens a calendar. This is what it's for.
Your company, your board, an industry group, a nonprofit you serve. The talk is how this travels, and every room he's in is a room where somebody decides to do something.
Maybe none of those are yours to give right now. Then do the one small thing you've been putting off, and tell Rian about it. That isn't a consolation prize. That's the whole idea.
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You don't have to do a triathlon to do this.
I nearly drowned in thigh-deep water at a lake in Oklahoma with people watching, which is how I ended up calling a guy who gave swim lessons.
He didn't do anything heroic. He taught a 35-year-old how to swim. He's also the reason Bryce and Carla got to those finish lines, and he's been behind the scenes of everything since. He's one of my best friends today.
That's what one small act looks like from the inside. Nobody knows which one it is at the time. You just do the thing in front of you.
It's not about being a hero.
It's about being a human.
A building. An introduction. A room. Or the small thing you've been putting off and finally did. This goes straight to Rian, and he answers his own email.
