After more than a decade abroad working on fast-growing startups, I did something that felt almost unthinkable in tech circles: I moved back to rural America.
On paper, it looked like a retreat. The place I chose isn’t a hub for venture capital. It doesn’t have WeWorks, or pitch nights, or even many coffee shops with Wi-Fi. But after ten years of airports, accelerators, and all-hands meetings in glass towers, it felt like the right move.
Why It Felt Radical
In startup culture, there’s an unspoken assumption that success means constant acceleration. Bigger cities, bigger teams, bigger valuations. Slowing down looks like failure.
But families don’t scale the way startups do. Kids grow on their own timeline. They don’t care about ARR or funding rounds. They care that you’re there at breakfast, or at bedtime. I realized the opportunity cost of staying in the grind wasn’t another unicorn. It was my kids’ childhood.
The View From Rural America
Life in rural America is slower, but it’s not simple. People here hustle too, but differently. They’re building houses, not apps. They’re raising animals, not valuations. The work is tangible. When someone asks what you do, they don’t want your LinkedIn pitch — they want to know if you can fix a fence, coach a team, or bring a dish to the church supper.
And it’s humbling. Startups can trick you into thinking you’re indispensable. Rural life reminds you you’re just one person among many, and the things that matter most are ordinary: health, neighbors, family.
What You Gain by Losing Speed
The strange thing about slowing down is that it creates space for different kinds of thinking. In cities, ideas feel urgent. In the country, they feel durable. You’re not chasing the next feature sprint or funding round; you’re asking questions about what actually lasts.
I don’t think I would have started asking those questions if I’d stayed in the churn. Ironically, stepping away from “growth” was the only way to find it again — not just in business, but in life.
Choosing Roots Over Runs
I didn’t move back because I’d stopped caring about startups. I moved back because I wanted to care about something else too. It’s not about rejecting ambition; it’s about redirecting it.
After ten years abroad, I realized I didn’t want my story to be just about companies. I wanted it to be about the family I raised, and the life we built together.
In Silicon Valley terms, it sounds irrational. But here, where my kids run around cornfields and I can walk to see the stars, it feels like the best investment I’ve ever made.