Shelby Bicycle Days: Magic, Memory, and the Joy of Showing Up
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Hi Friend,
I’m so glad you’re here. 🫶
This past weekend, my family and I spent our time doing something beautifully ordinary — attending the Shelby Bicycle Days Festival. And in the midst of lemonade, bounce houses, and backyard fireworks, I found myself holding onto something that felt a lot like magic.
I wasn’t rushing to coordinate details. I wasn’t managing volunteers or helping set up sound systems like I used to. I was just… there. Present. Enjoying the experience with my kids, my husband, and our closest friends. And let me tell you — it was exactly what I needed.
We kicked off our weekend Friday evening with our dear friends Ryan and Brittany (Aunt Bert to the boys). As soon as we walked down to Black Fork Commons, it hit me: that signature festival smell — fries, bourbon chicken, kettle corn, and chlorine from the splash pad. It’s the smell of summer in Shelby.
The sounds layered in next: kids shrieking and laughing in the fountains, parents calling out orders to food trucks, Tom’s Kitchen Table warming up for the evening set. For a moment, I felt like I was stepping into a memory. Shelby Bicycle Days has been part of my life since I was little, and now I’m watching my own kids experience it with the same wonder.
We picked up fresh-squeezed lemonade and our usual order of bourbon chicken (from Louisiana Grill — our forever favorite). Ollie and Henry ran straight to the bounce houses, while we found a spot near the stage and just… took it all in. Ice cream. Kettle corn. No extra clothes, no diaper bag, no agenda. I was fully embracing my “go with the flow” energy — a moment of parenting growth I was proud of.
Of course, the kids ended up soaking wet in the fountains, and guess what? The world didn’t end. They were giggling and dripping all the way back to the car, and by the time we got home, they were mostly dry.
That night, we decided to do something new — we set off our own little backyard fireworks show. It was a bit wild with a five-year-old and a two-year-old, but it felt like a rite of passage. Safe, chaotic, and unforgettable. We laughed, we gasped, we ended the night feeling full — of joy, of sugar, and of gratitude.
Saturday brought more tradition, more faces, and even more heart.
While I hung out with Brittany and Henry near our family’s Domino’s store to watch the parade, Colt and Ollie were already downtown helping with the float lineup — something Colt’s done for over 15 years. His brother Jake co-runs the entire parade operation, and years ago, I was right there with them helping plan the weekend. I used to run the kids’ bike decorating contest. We'd hand out streamers and encourage creativity so kids could ride in the parade — an idea that still makes me smile.
As the parade rolled by, we saw friends and familiar faces on floats, in firetrucks, tossing candy, and waving from tractors. When the float carrying the planning committee passed, Henry lit up. “I want to go with them!” he yelled, spotting his dad and big brother. So I handed him over and watched him light up from his seat on Colt’s lap.
Brittany and I took the opportunity for a rare bit of child-free time. First stop: a cold beer at Black Fork Brewing. Then a quick walk to Webers for more drinks, cheese curds, and fries. Eventually, the rest of the crew joined us and we made our way back to the brewery. We ordered from Mama’s Pizza — I’m a forever fan of the pickle pizza and the BLT foldover — and the kids passed the time playing on the patio with trucks and coloring books.
The sky grew darker, the buzz of the crowd shifted toward anticipation, and we grabbed a spot behind the brewery to watch the fireworks.
And wow. They always get me.
The fireworks always leave me a little breathless. Maybe it’s the sound — so loud and consuming. Maybe it’s the cheers after the grand finale that echo all across town. But mostly, it’s that moment of shared wonder. The entire city, pausing together, looking up, feeling something.
To my kids, they’re just cool explosions in the sky. But to me, they’re the heartbeat of summer. They’re belonging. They’re the feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself.
Ollie and Henry watched in awe. Their little faces glowed in the colorful flashes. Their joy made room for my own.
It’s been a few years since we’ve been directly involved in the festival’s planning, and this year was one of the first that I could truly just enjoy the weekend without stressing about naps and feeding schedules of a baby.
And let me tell you — it was joyful.
There’s a sweetness that comes with showing your kids something you loved as a child and watching it come alive again through their eyes. There’s pride in knowing you once helped build it — that the bounce houses, the parade floats, the flow of the weekend was shaped in part by your hands and your heart. And there’s peace in knowing you don’t have to hold it all anymore. You can let it hold you.
We waved to people we hadn’t seen in weeks. We hugged friends, ran into old classmates, and shared snacks with the kids of friends we’ve known since high school. In a small town, everyone knows someone — and at Bicycle Days, you feel that in every direction.
I hope they remember the joy. The sticky fingers from kettle corn and ice cream. The splash pad soaked shoes. The sound of fireworks and the cheers that followed. But I also hope they remember that behind all of it — the fun, the celebration, the community — there’s a small group of people who work really hard to make it happen.
And it matters to come together. That festivals like this are about more than entertainment. They’re about connection and community.
Grateful For:
Black Fork Commons
Shelby CIC
Shelby Domino's Pizza
Black Fork Brewing
Weber's Bar
Mama's Pizza - Shelby
Louisiana Grill
Tom's Kitchen Table
…and so many more you can find at shelbycic.com/bikedays
Thank you for giving our town a reason to celebrate and come alive.
✨ A Moment To Reflect
I’d love to hear what this stirred in you.
Here are a few questions to sit with — or share with me if you feel inspired:
What’s a small-town (or hometown) tradition that brings you joy?
When was the last time you let yourself fully enjoy a moment — even if it was messy or imperfect?
What do you hope your kids (or younger people in your life) remember about the traditions you share with them?
What does community look like for you right now?
You can reply directly to this post or email me anytime.
I read every message and hold your words with care.
This space was made for you, too.
With Warmth,
Maddie
Creator of At The Hearth 🔥
Co-Host of Better Together Podcast 🎙️