Who among us doesn’t remember the heady freedom of taking off on a bike after school or on a summer afternoon, exhilarated by the wind in our hair and the promise of adventure? For Michael Sichlau, those memories are potent ones. “I grew up outside of a small farming community in downstate Illinois,” he explains. “The only way I could hang out with my friends as a pre-teen was by riding my BMX bike five miles into town and back. I cycled about 10 miles round-trip on a near-daily basis during those years.” Those two-wheeled commutes nurtured a love of the outdoors and a passion for cycling that would enrich his life in the years to come.
Sichlau eventually left the country roads and cornfields of his youth behind to pursue an undergraduate degree in biology at the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign, a medical degree at Northwestern University’s Feinberg School of Medicine in Chicago, a radiology residency in Pittsburgh, a vascular and interventional radiology fellowship at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, and a distinguished career in interventional radiology. But he never forgot the simple joy of riding a bicycle, and he wanted to share that joy with others. So, in 2016, he began doctoring donated bikes for the young survivors of neglect and abuse at Hephzibah Home. “After spending so much time on a bike as a kid and during my college and medical school years, I’d picked up a lot of bike maintenance and repair skills,” he notes. “Later, while volunteering for Working Bikes—a nonprofit that refurbishes donated bikes and distributes them globally to people in need—I received some formal training in bike mechanics and had a chance to hone my skills.” Ten years and hundreds of repairs later, Sichlau is still using those skills to ensure that every child at Hephzibah Home has a bike that’s ready to roll. “These kids have been through a lot,” he observes. “If having a nice bike to ride brings them even a moment of happiness, then my time is well spent.”
Along the way, Sichlau has earned the respect and affection of traumatized children who do not trust easily. “Prior to the pandemic, when I used to repair bikes in the backyard of Hephzibah Home, the kids always wanted to know what I was doing and why. I was happy to engage with them and even teach them a little basic bike maintenance when they were interested. “One day,” he recalls, “one of these kids glanced at my black rubber surgical clogs, which I sometimes wear while doing bike repairs, and asked: ‘Are you a doctor?’ I said, ‘ Yes, why do you ask? And he said, ‘Well, because you are wearing doctor’s shoes. So I will call you Dr. Mike.’” Sichlau chuckles at the memory, but his smile fades as he considers the hard truth behind the child’s familiarity with medical footwear. “How many kids have been around hospitals long enough to recognize a pair of surgical clogs?” he wonders out loud. But the child’s nickname for Sichlau stuck and—over time—grew longer. He is now known as “Dr. Mike the Bike Guy”—a moniker that strikes him as ironic. “I’ve never been one to wear my medical credentials on my sleeve,” says Sichlau. “Even at our interventional radiology practice, most people just call me Mike!”
This low-key River Forest resident—a longtime Hephzibah supporter along with his wife, Renee—is characteristically modest about his good works on behalf of Hephzibah’s kids. But his acts of service may be helping in ways that he might not have imagined. Studies show that cycling serves as a highly effective therapeutic tool for children with trauma histories because it regulates the nervous system, burns off stress hormones, fosters a sense of independence, and builds confidence and resilience. “Mike is a ‘quiet hero’ for our residential program,” says Director of Development Juliet Yera with a smile. “Our kids are hard on their bikes because they’re hard on themselves. By fixing their bikes, Mike is really showing our kids that nothing is beyond repair.” The best part of being Hephzibah’s bike doctor, says Sichlau, is the children’s curiosity and enthusiasm. “Any time we can bring that out in a child—or cultivate a love of physical activity and the outdoors— we’re doing something worthwhile. I remember teaching a couple of the kids at Hephzibah how to air up a tire, and I loved seeing the excitement and satisfaction on their faces as they mastered this new skill.” Meanwhile, the 58-year-old father of three is still chasing that cycler’s high on the open road. He’s participated in road races, fat-bike races, gravel races, and triathlons, as well as RAGBRAI, a recreational bike touring event across Iowa that he describes as “a seven-day party on wheels.” In early July, when Sichlau shared his story with us, he was two weeks away from riding the RIFT, an epic, bucket-list gravel race through the lava fields of Iceland. “It will be the ride of a lifetime,” he confides. “I’m trying to ride as much as I can while doing what I can to help nurture a love of cycling in Hephzibah’s kids.”