Bentonville provides an unexpected welcome.

By Lauren Pickman

The first time my kids rode their bikes to school in Bentonville, I knew something in my life had shifted. Not just geographically – but fundamentally. I stood at the end of the driveway watching them pedal away, backpacks bouncing, confident and carefree. As a girl raised in New Jersey who spent half her life in California, this wasn’t a moment I ever expected to experience in Arkansas. And yet, here we were – home.

Ten years later, I say it without hesitation: I’m proud to be an Arkansan.

We arrived in Bentonville in 2018, originally for work, after moving Allied Cycle Works from Little Rock. At the time, I couldn’t have predicted how deeply this place would shape my family, my career, and my sense of purpose. What I’ve come to learn is that Bentonville has a quiet way of welcoming you in — through trails instead of traffic, neighbors instead of noise, and a community that shows up again and again.

My two boys grew up here on bikes. From those first rides to school — kindergarten and second grade — to now disappearing down singletrack straight from our front door, they’ve been given a childhood rooted in independence, movement and trust. They’re thriving in school, grounded in their community, and learning early that joy doesn’t have to be complicated.

People often describe Bentonville as a small town with big-city amenities, and that’s true. But what makes it special is how seamlessly those amenities weave into daily life. Excellent schools. World-class museums that are free and accessible. A brand-new forward-thinking medical institution. A town compact enough that nearly everything is 10 minutes away — by car or by bike.

It’s a place where kids can safely ride into town for a $1 ice cream cone and then head straight to some of the best mountain biking in the country. That kind of access – to nature, culture and connection – is rare. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

To me, Bentonville feels designed — intentionally or not — for people to live healthier, happier lives. As a five-year cancer survivor, I feel that deeply. This town supported my healing in ways both visible and subtle: movement built into daily life, neighbors who check in, trails that offer both challenge and peace. Bentonville isn’t just where I live — it’s where I plan to stay.

What began as a “free” ride became a reflection of who we are when we show up for one another.

Over the years, my professional life has grown alongside this community. I’m a co-founder of Women of OZ, a women’s mountain bike club built on inclusivity and connection, and Rule of Three, an epic cycling race that blends tarmac, gravel and singletrack into one unforgettable experience. My friend Andy Chasteen and I run this event together along with two other events. But the one event in particular captures the heart of Bentonville better than anything else we do.

It’s called The Rule of $3.99.

What started as a simple January group ride — originally called The Rule of Free — was meant to bring people together in the dead of winter. Ride bikes. Push a little. Laugh a lot. End with food and drinks. Participants even received guaranteed entry into Rule of Three before registration opened to the public.

After the first year, we noticed that if the weather dipped below freezing, attendance plummeted — but we had a huge waitlist. So we tried an experiment. Our second year we charged a registration fee, then refunded riders on event day — minus the $3.99 processing fee required by BikeReg. If you didn’t show up then, we’d donate every dollar to a great non profit here in town.

We posted the idea on Instagram, and a friend casually suggested something simple: What if everyone just donated their reg fee instead of taking the refund?

We didn’t push it. We didn’t promote it. But the community took it and ran.

That year, riders donated over $8,000 to Pedal It Forward. The next year, $12,000. Last year, $16,000.

Andy and I didn’t create that generosity. Bentonville did.

Those funds go directly back into the community — to people who need a bike to get to work, to a doctor’s appointment, or simply to experience the freedom and dignity that comes with reliable transportation. It’s not flashy. It’s deeply human. And it’s everything I’ve come to love about this town.

What began as a “free” ride became a reflection of who we are when we show up for one another. A reminder that kindness doesn’t have to be grand to be powerful.

On any given morning in Bentonville, you’ll see it: kids pedaling to school, neighbors heading to work, riders disappearing into the trees. It’s not just movement — it’s a shared rhythm. And once you feel it, it’s hard to imagine living any other way.