Journal

I’ve been using the phrase better than awesome a lot lately — and for good reason. The Trivia Night held on January 30 wasn’t just awesome. It was better than awesome in ways that matter deeply to me.

First, it was sold out.

Let that sink in for a moment. Every seat filled. Every table buzzing. Every question answered with laughter, friendly trash talk, and that unmistakable energy that comes from people choosing to show up. For me, the sold-out sign meant more than a full room — it was confirmation. Confirmation that people do want to help. That they care. That this mission resonates.

A new year always brings that spark of possibility — the feeling that maybe this is the year something meaningful shifts. Some people focus on changing habits or chasing goals. For me, what I’m going to establish as my goal for this year is about changing perspectives — especially around something as simple, and as powerful, as what we put on our heads before getting on a bike.

Before you think I’m going to talk about posting safety reminders, it’s more than that. It’s not about guilt or obligation. It’s about identity. And it’s about a shift in how we think about strength — the kind that isn’t about how fast you pedal or how far you go, but about how you protect what matters most.

The choice to wear a helmet isn’t about waiting until it’s too late. It isn’t a decision you look back on with “hindsight is 20/20” because damage to your body can’t be undone. It’s a choice you make now, a proactive step that reflects self-awareness, responsibility, and the kind of strength that often goes unseen. That’s the kind of thinking I hope to help grow this year.

The holidays are here — a time to celebrate, reflect, and look forward with hope. For me, and for everyone involved with BrainSTRONG, it’s about more than decorations, gifts, and festive cheer. It’s about celebrating strength, resilience, and determination — even when it’s invisible.

Most people living with an Acquired Brain Injury (ABI) face challenges that aren’t obvious. Their victories and perseverance often go unseen. That’s why BrainSTRONG exists: to shine a light on the invisible, raise awareness, and foster understanding. It’s about turning empathy into action and showing the world that resilience matters.

Every holiday season, we look for that one gift—something meaningful, something memorable, something that shows we truly care. Some people wrap up gadgets, others go the sentimental route, and some simply hand out gift cards and hope for the best. But this year, the most impactful gift might be something surprisingly simple:

A bike helmet.

Not exactly the “big reveal” under the tree, right? But stay with me—because this gift isn’t just an item. It’s the spark that kicks off a movement. It’s the catalyst for changing how people of all ages think about their own safety. And soon, thanks to the launch of “I am BrainSTRONG,” it will be so much more than just a helmet.

There’s one thing I’ve learned on my journey, it’s that people don’t like being told what to do (in this case wear a helmet). For some reason, the very idea sparks resistance. Kids roll their eyes, adults shrug it off, and too often the response is: “I’ll be fine.”

I honestly don’t know why, I really don’t, because if I wasn’t wearing mine, I’d have died – absolutely no doubt.

Think about it. If you’re driving a car, you buckle up without question. If you’re skiing, strapping on a helmet has become second nature. If you play hockey, you wouldn’t step onto the ice without one. Yet, when it comes to biking—something we do on busy city streets, winding trails, or even in our own neighborhoods—there’s this strange resistance.

The other day I was chatting with a neighbour about kids and biking, and what she told me blew my mind. She said that they aren’t allowed to ride without a helmet on, but why her kids won’t wear a bike helmet has nothing to do with anything logical—it’s simply peer pressure. They tell her that if they show up with a helmet strapped on, there’s a real risk they’ll be teased. They might get called a wimp, a baby, or something worse. And that means, for too many kids, the choice isn’t between safety and danger—it’s between safety and fitting in.

That’s a frightening thought. As someone who’s lived through the consequences of being run over by a minivan, I know what’s really at stake when a child gets on a bike without protection. Helmets save lives. They reduce the severity of injuries. In some cases, they’re the difference between standing up after a fall and never being the same again. But kids don’t think that way—not when peer pressure is weighing heavier than any helmet ever could.