What does brant do?

March 10, 2026

I got up this morning and counted to sixty. It’s hard starting again, trying to find rhythm and structure when there’s nothing, but that’s really the part I like. Blank sheets of paper, blank screens, blank spaces. And then just going with ideas. Which is how I got here.

I accidentally became a journalist from hanging out with the right people. That came after accidentally getting hired to work in a bikeshop that was a local epicentre of a new sport. Mountainbiking was coming to the UK, and Two Wheels Good in Leeds offered me a job after my mum rang them to see if they’d give me a trial. That started me on a career path with bikes, retail, design, and friends who I still have to this day, and some that aren’t around, but still watch over my shoulder when I’m being daft.

From bike retail to bike journalism – that paid for beer through uni, and beyond. Freelance life began every day with a blank page, before filing copy via a print-out (first), a floppy disc (second) and eventually email. All a very long time ago. Internet access before the world wide web. CIX. AMEOL. Newsgroups.

Salaried to a London media mega corp, I somehow dodged the 9-5 by working half in London, half in Yorkshire, finally being flung from the capital as parental responsibilities caught up with me resulting in a reinvention as a dot com editor.

Catching up with old friends whose spider senses said they should get on the web early, once again I mistakenly ended up launching an online bike company, though somewhat recklessly all the bikes had only one gear. Somehow it worked. That was about 25 years ago.

So bikes, bikes, more bikes, then trousers. All the same really – though it took new love to show me that things could have two legs rather than two wheels. But the process is the same. Doing what I love. Working with people in factories. Telling stories. Marketing products. Gravel bikes, Downhill Race Bikes, Olympic triathlon bikes, denim jeans, overshirts. Product. People. Place. Rinse and repeat.

What really gets me going is those short runs. The fun of developing. Pivoting. Sampling. Going again. It’s exhausting, but it’s engaging. Locked in, the world vanishes, until you look up and your tea’s gone cold and it’s dark outside.

I swam a mile this morning. I sit at a hot-desk in the town hall. This is the third blank page of the day. It doesn’t always feel like work, but it’s working.