18/06/2026
People who were 35 years old in 2001 are 60 years old today.
That stopped me in my tracks.
Because I’m 35.
And 2001 doesn’t feel that long ago.
It feels like yesterday.
Yet somehow, the people who were my age then are now reaching retirement age.
And it reminded me of something I’ve known for a long time, but don’t always want to admit.
Time is moving faster than any of us realise.
Hi, I’m Dan.
I’m a husband, a dad, a singer, a hiker, a businessman, and the founder of Lincoln Hike Club
People often ask me why I do so much.
Why I get up before sunrise when most people are still asleep.
Why I spend weekends walking for miles through wind, mud and exhaustion.
Why I put so much time and energy into bringing people together when life would probably be easier if I just focused on myself.
The answer is simple.
Life has taught me lessons I never asked to learn.
There have been moments where my health was taken away from me.
Moments where I genuinely didn’t know what the future looked like.
Moments where I realised that all the plans, dreams and ambitions in the world mean absolutely nothing if you’re not here to live them.
When you’ve sat in hospital beds alone.
When you’ve worried about whether your body will ever be the same again.
When you’ve looked at your wife and children and wondered what the future holds.
Something changes inside you.
You stop taking ordinary days for granted.
You stop assuming there will always be another chance.
You stop believing tomorrow is guaranteed.
And you start living differently.
That’s why I chase sunrises.
Not because it’s about a sunrise.
But because every sunrise reminds me I’ve been given another day that many people never got.
Another day to hug my wife.
Another day to make memories with my children.
Another day to laugh with friends.
Another day to meet someone new.
Another day to make a difference.
Another day to be alive.
That’s why I built Lincoln Hike Club!
It was never really about walking.
Walking is just the excuse.
The real magic is watching someone turn up on their own and leave with friends.
Watching someone who has been struggling mentally find a reason to get out of bed.
Watching people who have felt isolated realise they’re not alone.
Watching complete strangers encourage each other up hills, through challenges, and sometimes through life.
In a world where everyone is supposedly more connected online than ever, so many people have never felt more alone.
I wanted to create something real.
Real conversations.
Real friendships.
Real support.
Real human connection.
Because I know what it feels like to need people.
I know what it feels like to go through difficult times.
And I know how powerful it is when someone simply turns around and says:
“You’re not doing this alone.”
The mountains are beautiful.
The lakes, the trails, the views.
They all matter.
But they are not the reason I keep doing this.
The people are.
Every conversation.
Every laugh.
Every friendship.
Every person who takes a chance and turns up not knowing anyone.
Every message from someone saying a walk changed their week, their mindset, or even their life.
Those moments mean more to me than they will ever know.
The truth is, none of us are getting out of this alive.
One day the walks will end.
One day the conversations will stop.
One day every single one of us will take our final breath.
That isn’t meant to be depressing.
It’s meant to be a wake-up call.
Because if people my age can become 60 seemingly overnight, how much time do we really have?
Why are so many of us waiting to live?
Waiting until we’re fitter.
Waiting until we have more money.
Waiting until life calms down.
Waiting until the timing is right.
Waiting until next year.
Waiting for a day that might never come.
I’ve learned that life doesn’t wait.
The clock keeps ticking whether you’re living or not.
And when my time comes, I don’t want to look back and realise I spent my life watching everyone else live theirs.
I want to know I squeezed every drop out of it.
I want my children to remember a dad who showed up.
A dad who chased adventures.
A dad who wasn’t afraid to try.
A dad who taught them that life is something to experience, not simply survive.
I want the people around me to know they mattered.
That they were valued.
That they belonged.
And if, years from now, somebody remembers me, I don’t want it to be because of my job title, my bank balance, or anything I owned.
I want it to be because I made them feel welcome.
Because I made them laugh.
Because I helped them believe in themselves when they didn’t.
Because I brought people together.
Because I reminded them that life is happening right now.
Not next year.
Not when everything is perfect.
Right now.
That’s why I live the way I do.
Not because I love setting a 4:30am alarm.
Not because I enjoy being cold, tired and covered in mud.
Not because walking miles for “fun” always makes sense.
But because I know how precious life is.
And because one day, when my story ends, I want to know I truly lived every chapter of it.
