From my window seat in this cozy upstate New York cafe, I watch as the sky paints itself. High clouds transform from grey tones to reddish pinks, then finally to a shade of soft white. Pigeons drop in unison from their perch atop an old brick building, do a few twisted loops, then reset themselves on a new ledge. Their movement seems inconsequential. A purposeless murmuration. But as they repeat this display over and over, I think otherwise. Perhaps their movement is the meaning. 

I take a sip from my steaming drink, a six-ounce Americano, as the figure of a runner appears from the depths of downtown. I first notice her shoes, and of course I do, because shoes are what anyone in this industry first notices. From my vantage point, however, I can’t quite make them out. Not yet, anyhow.

The runner lopes gracefully down the empty sidewalk. She passes long, reflecting storefront windows beneath brightly printed awnings. She stops abruptly at an intersection, looks both ways for traffic, then blows off the red hand telling her to wait. Sometimes going is more logical than stopping. Sometimes it’s OK to break rules.

As the low sun rises and sets the skyline aglow, I debate the prospect of getting a run in myself. The weather this time of year is perfect — a crisp and cool pre-winter chill. Shorts and a couple upper layers do the trick even though the outfit draws incredulous looks from passersby. 

These days, the cold air demands a slower start from my body. My achy joints take longer to warm up than they used to. But even at my new pace, which, by the way, I will forever compare to my old pace, my reason to run transcends the run itself. I am enchanted by walkways lined with crunchy leaves. By newly barren trees that make familiar routes suddenly seem untried. I’m not running for achievement. I run because that’s what I do.

Making Family First

A couple weeks ago, I left The Running Event in Austin (it was a great few days, by the way!!) a day early so I could get back to helping my mom. After sustaining a fall in October that severely fractured her femur, she needs extra help. Her prognosis is good — and her outlook even better. But she’ll likely never be the same. She and I talk about this often and I am always impressed by the silver linings she wrings from her situation. She finds opportunity in her predicament.

Also, I am regularly inspired by the joy my mom exudes after completing menial tasks. Yesterday she couldn’t wait to share her news about having walked to the bathroom without stopping. On another she raved about a lunch she prepped without assistance. Each day I am marveled by her mental flexibility, her willingness to put in the work, and her undying positivity. 

This past week my mom walked the longest she’s walked since her accident — from her apartment to the main hallway of her independent living facility. Her friends were astounded and dropped what they were doing to applaud her progress. “Keep it up! You’re doing great!” Their unbridled encouragement is as much a part of her recovery as her PT sessions. 

Meanwhile, my mom commands her body with simple directions: Step, squeeze, lift — step, squeeze, lift. She presses firmly into her walker, puts weight on one leg, engages her quad, then lifts the other foot. The spoken mantra builds trust in her healing bones.

As another retail year slips past, I find myself reflecting differently on things. My new perspective, I believe, is the direct result of hours spent walking alongside my mom as she heals. Her less than one mile-per-hour pace is hard to keep up with. Why? Because slowness demands a parallel mindset. Slowness demands simplicity. And simplicity has not been a typical tenet of my life. I tend to be a hasty hotfoot. I crave commotion. I revel in long lists for both today and a thousand tomorrows. My entrepreneurial mindset is likely not much different than yours.

Reflections On 2024

Walking with my mom has forced me to jam on the brakes. And though this slowness is quite maddening at times, it also affords a hopeful prospect I didn’t see coming. I share this with you – as one of my driven and harmonious industry peers – because I think it might help you, too. Slowing down, in fact, has enriched how I approach my work. My life.

Woven within simplicity are better chances to recognize the more important things. Things missed in the hustle. Things that lose attention when up against a complex spreadsheet, an inventory count, the conversion rate, or a fanciful carbon plate or foam attribute. Simplicity is fertile ground for reestablishing the foundation. For tuning in to what really makes us tick.

Simplicity ensures our future existence. Because simplicity is care, tenderness, thoughtfulness, compassion and all those other so-called soft skills that all too often take a back seat to businessy measurables. Simplicity, at root, is what creates loyal customers. It’s what creates real relationships.

As small business owners, our future relevance will come from honing in on our basic building blocks. This is more than naming our why, it’s about (re)committing to, and building a plan around, our core reason for choosing this path. It’s about being honest with ourselves. Like, really honest.

As you reconsider your own baseline, I’d like to remind you a few crucial things that this year, and this morning, have reminded me: 

1. Movement is the meaning. 

2. Joy is in the doing, not the done. 

3. And perhaps the most poignant reminder of all, We don’t exist without each other. 

I propose that as you enter 2025, you breathe fresh life into your work by reconnecting with what makes you, you. Maybe now’s finally the time to say yes to that one big thing that’s been on your back burner forever. Maybe now’s the time to alter your business plan to more accurately represent what you believe. To reaffirm your values. 

Thoughts for 2025

I encourage you to examine what drives you to clock in each day. I encourage you to open your doors wider, then wider still, and make crystal clear a humble invitation to folks who may still feel excluded. Gosh — there’s so much opportunity for growth out there. So much opportunity to love and be loved. And now’s the time for it all. Because tomorrow, truth be told, is uncertain.

As my drink cools and the early morning gives way to a less ungodly hour, as my mom might say, this cafe, and the city in general, awakens. I sit in warm comfort as winter looms and bear witness to the bustling human anthill around me. The whirl of an espresso machine, the rumble of work trucks, the upbeat chatter from my neighboring tables, the jogger’s foot strikes. The tempo of life’s music.

Another runner zips past the window. This time I’m able to make out their shoes — an old and tattered pair, grimy and flattened. The original cushion and support is undoubtedly compromised. I cringe thinking about the poor guy’s knees and consider chasing him down for a quick shoe talk.  

As he turns out of sight, something I recently read pops into my mind. Something like, “When we have little, we attain so much.” I pack up my things to return to my mom’s place. She should be awake by now and she’s going to need a little help getting things going. Someone to remind her to step, squeeze, lift. Someone to remind her that she’s doing great. Someone to validate all the hard work that’s gotten her to this point. 

Frankly, it’s all the same things I’d say to you, too. I see you! You’re doing great! You’re right where you should be! Keep things simple, folks and all those hard things ahead will, most certainly, be easier.