Between mid-November and mid-March, I’ll be on the road for Blue Star nine weekends out of eighteen.
That’s not a typo.
Add to that three additional conferences I can’t physically attend—because there is, in fact, only one of me—and suddenly my calendar looks less like a schedule and more like a logistics puzzle. For those clinics, I sponsor, ship product, and connect with coaches virtually through email and social media. I wish I could clone myself, but until science catches up, this is the season I’m in.
So yes—this blog is Tales from the Road.
Because something happens when you spend that much time driving Midwest highways in winter. You think. You listen. You stretch at gas station pit stops because “car butt” is real. You make calls you’ve been putting off. You sit with ideas that don’t surface when life is tidy.
And you learn—over and over again—why you chose this path.
Life Between Exit Ramps
I drive to every conference. Every mile. Every snow-covered stretch of road.
That means a lot of phone calls from the driver’s seat. A lot of voice notes. A lot of recalibrating posture and stopping to move my body because sitting for hours is not what humans were designed for.
It also means my snackle box is elite.
If you don’t know what a snackle box is, imagine a tackle box—but instead of fishing lures, it’s filled with road-trip fuel you can eat one-handed while driving.
Current lineup:
- Chomps jerky sticks
- Nut-Thin crackers
- Mixed nuts (no peanuts because… #gross)
- Whole fruit
- Dark chocolate bars
- And yes—SweeTARTS Ropes (everyone has a vice)
It’s not glamorous. But it’s real. And in a strange way, it mirrors the work itself: prepared, intentional, and flexible enough to handle what the road throws at you.
The Trade-Offs (Let’s Not Pretend Otherwise)
Does it suck to be away from my family?
Absolutely.
Would I give this up and go back to corporate life?
No. And honestly, I’m probably unhireable at this point. #SorryNotSorry
Midwest winter weather is tricky. Snowstorms don’t care about your plans. Ice doesn’t respect deadlines. But here’s the thing: the contrast makes the summers sweeter. The work makes the rest matter more.
And I don’t take lightly what this season requires. This isn’t hustle-for-hustle’s-sake. This is intentional investment—in relationships, in trust, in showing up where it counts.
Education Is Everywhere—If You’re Listening
One of the greatest gifts of this season is the education.
It would be a crying shame to spend this many hours on the road and not fill them with voices worth hearing. I get to listen to giants—people shaping sport, leadership, and culture in real time. Coaches. Thinkers. Builders.
Recently, a quote from Brad Peterson of HP Distance Club stopped me in my tracks:
“Always be training your body and mind to make the last mile—or the last split—your fastest.”
Brad has spent decades coaching distance athletes at the highest level, building one of the most respected programs in the country. But that line isn’t just about racing.
It’s about how you live.
More than 20 years of my career are already in the rearview mirror. That could feel sobering—or it can feel clarifying. I choose the latter. I’m not winding down. I’m leveling up. I’m training for the next leg to be the strongest, most intentional stretch yet.
So I’ll ask you the same thing I’m asking myself:
- Are you coaching like your best years are behind you—or ahead of you?
- Are you designing your life and your program to finish strong?
Pressure, Craft, and Character
Another voice that stayed with me came from Wesley Armbruster, Head Girls Cross Country and Track Coach at Festus High School in Missouri.
Three things he said lodged themselves in my body:
“Pressure is a privilege.”
“Coaching is a craft.”
“Coaching is about creating high-character people—both inside and outside of competition.”
Pressure is a privilege. It means someone trusts you with something that matters. Athletes. Programs. Communities. That weight isn’t something to escape—it’s something to steward.
And coaching as a craft? That resonates deeply. Craftspeople don’t rush. They refine. They pay attention to details others overlook. They care about process as much as outcome.
The best coaches I meet on the road aren’t chasing shortcuts. They’re building something durable. Something that holds up under stress. Something that shapes people long after the season ends.
So let me ask you:
- Do you see coaching as a role… or a craft?
- Where are you refining right now—not because you have to, but because you want to?
Why This Matters to Blue Star
These miles matter because they keep me close to you.
To the coaches who show up early and leave late.
To the ones balancing family, work, and sport.
To the ones who feel the weight of expectation and carry it anyway.
Blue Star exists for this community. Not from a distance—but from inside it. The road reminds me that this work is relational, not transactional. Built on trust. Earned over time.
Every conversation, every clinic, every late-night drive reinforces why we do what we do: to support coaches who care deeply about who their athletes become.
So if you see me a little road-worn this season, know that it’s intentional.
These miles are part of the craft.
And I’m training—just like you—to make the last mile my best one yet.