Steven Hayward

Rage rooms are a thing, popping up around the country over the last year. The idea is simple. The rage room is a place where you pay to break...

We moved to the United States 17 years ago. My wife and I are Canadian—from Toronto originally—but we’ve been green card-holding, permanent U.S. residents ever since with no intention...

Exercise is overrated. Here’s a guide to “A Lazy Day for the DisInclined in the Springs.”

Crestone is one of those spots that many people have heard about, but never actually visited. Nestled against the Sangre de Cristo Mountains at the easternmost edge of the...

It began with a mandolin. My wife found it at a garage sale. A week later she played the opening riff to “Jolene” for me. Next it was cowboy...

There are five of us in the Hayward family. My wife and I, and three kids who are a mix of teens and preteens. This means our lives bustle...

The mystery began several months ago, when a writer named David Baron visited my class at Colorado College. An admitted umbraphile, or eclipse chaser, Baron is about to publish...

The idea was simple enough. Search the Springs; find our favorite tacos. There should be some definitive ruling on the subject—or at least an article in which a couple...

At the moment you find yourself 50 feet up at the Garden of the Gods, clinging to the side of a rock outcrop for dear life, the question you ask...

In “On the Taco Trail”—from our Winter 2017 print issue—we sent an intrepid pair of writers to scour the city in search of the perfect taco. Their research is...