Hey Reader, its been a while, huh?
A few weeks ago, I sat down to write the next It Got Me Thinking newsletter.
I opened a blank document, took a deep breath, and then… nothing.
The cursor blinked like it was mocking me. Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. Eventually, I just closed the laptop and told myself I’d “get to it tomorrow.”
Tomorrow became next week.
Next week became… well, here we are.
It wasn’t writer’s block. It wasn’t that I didn’t have thoughts swirling around my head.
It was that I didn’t have the capacity to shape any of them. My brain felt like it was buffering, spinning endlessly, waiting for a connection that never came.
I was tired.
And more than that, I was mentally full.
Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that rest was a reward, something I’d get to once everything else was done. The problem is, “everything else” never ends. There is always another task, another email, another thing I “should” be doing. I was busy, but I wasn’t present. Productive, but not purposeful.
And it got me thinking....
In sports, we celebrate grit. Push through. Do one more rep. No pain, no gain.
But the truth is, even the best athletes understand that performance only happens when recovery does too. The most powerful muscle in your body is the one that knows when to rest.
When you’re running on empty, the signs don’t always scream at you. Sometimes they whisper.
You get short with people you care about.
You lose track of what day it is.
You start counting hours instead of moments.
You forget what “enough” feels like.
What hit me hardest wasn’t the exhaustion itself. It was realizing how long I had ignored it.
How long I had told myself that slowing down meant I was falling behind.
How long I had measured worth by output instead of alignment.
The pause that I dreaded turned out to be the reset I needed. It reminded me that reflection and recovery are not luxuries, they are responsibilities. Not just in coaching or competition, but in being human.
You cannot think clearly when your mind is sprinting.
You cannot lead well when your tank is empty.
You cannot connect deeply when you are running from quiet.
I wish I could say I figured it out completely, but I am still working on it. What I can say is this: I am learning to treat stillness like strength, not weakness.
To honor the pauses between the plays.
To accept that the game does not always move at my pace, and that is okay.
So maybe this is not a comeback newsletter. Maybe it is just a reminder.
For me. For you. For anyone trying to do it all without falling apart.
Take the pause.
Not because you have earned it.
Because you need it.
Until next time,
#DontSuck and remember, sometimes doing nothing is exactly what moves you forward.