Hey Reader!

A few weeks ago a Tuesday came and went without a newsletter.

If you’ve been reading It Got Me Thinking for a while, you probably noticed. For the past year or so Tuesday has had a rhythm to it. Somewhere during the week something small catches my attention, the thought sits in the back of my mind for a few days, and eventually it turns into the newsletter.

Except this time it didn’t.

I paused for a bit. Not because I ran out of things to say. If anything, the opposite is usually true. My brain tends to wander into observations faster than I can write them down. But one Tuesday evening I found myself sitting at my computer looking at a half-started draft when a sentence ran through my head that bothered me more than I expected.

“I have to send this.”

That had never really been the point of the newsletter.

When this started, the idea was simple. Something random would happen during the week, something small would catch my attention, and I would start pulling on the thread to see where it led. Sometimes it turned into a reflection about coaching. Sometimes it wandered into youth sports culture. Sometimes it became a thought about the strange ways our brains behave when the moment gets loud.

But it was always supposed to come from curiosity.

Somewhere along the way it had quietly started to feel scheduled instead.

…and it got me thinking.

In sports we talk constantly about discipline and commitment. Athletes have to show up when they’re tired. Teams have to push through long practices and long seasons. Coaches have to keep things moving even when the energy in the gym dips.

All of that matters.

But every once in a while it helps to step back long enough to make sure you still care about the thing you’re doing. Not quitting. Not walking away. Just pausing long enough to check the direction.

I see this with athletes more often than people realize. A kid who once loved the game starts moving through practice a little differently. The energy shifts. The body language changes. From the outside it’s easy to label that as attitude or effort.

Sometimes it’s simply the spark getting buried under expectations, pressure, and a schedule that never seems to slow down.

That pause matters, because without it people can keep moving forward for a long time without ever asking whether they still feel connected to what they’re doing.

For me, the pause was about the newsletter. I liked what I was writing, but I didn’t love it, and that felt like a signal to step back for a bit and let things reset.

The moment that nudged me back into writing again wasn’t dramatic. It happened in the gym after practice one evening. Most of the players had already left and the place had that quiet echo gyms get once the noise fades out. One athlete was still on the court working on serves. Nobody asked her to stay and there wasn’t a coach standing nearby. She simply wanted a few more good reps before heading home.

She would serve, walk across the court to retrieve the ball, reset, and serve again. The rhythm repeated itself over and over while the gym sat almost completely empty. Watching it for a few minutes reminded me of something that probably applies to a lot more than just volleyball.

The best work usually happens in those quiet moments when nobody is watching and nothing is required. It happens when someone still cares enough about the craft to stay a little longer and take a few more reps simply because they want to get it right.

Standing there for a minute before turning the lights off, I realized that was the feeling I wanted back with the newsletter. Not something I had to send on Tuesday, but something I wanted to sit with a little longer until the thought felt right.

And somewhere on the drive home that night, the newsletter started writing itself again.

For more resources such as blogs, vlogs, and upcoming webinars, visit DanMickle.com.

Also, visit MentalCast.com for the latest episode of The MentalCast podcast.

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