Part 1: Mountains, Valleys & Everything in Between

Rebuilding, Restoring, and Running Your Race with Purpose

Dear Muse,

During Covid, I herniated a disc. I woke up one morning unable to move, wracked with excruciating pain. Because of lockdown, my doctor couldn’t see me in person or prescribe pain medication. The only thing he could offer was steroids and, of course, my body took its time responding. I had a delayed reaction, leaving me to army-crawl to the bathroom, often not making it in time. It was one of the worst experiences of my life.

Eventually, I had surgery and then months of PT. My balance was completely off. I had to relearn how to stand, walk, and trust my own body again. It took time, and even today I still live with lingering pain, a gentle reminder and sometimes I wobble. The hardest loss was the vanity of realizing I could no longer wear my beloved 4-inch stiletto heels. I got over it and love my kitten heels just the same.

Photo credit: Cindy Tang

But here’s the deeper truth: balance isn’t just physical.

How many of us have lost our balance in life? In our faith? In the valley moments where everything feels uncertain? Let me be the first to raise my hand.

So many of us are in transition, navigating what I like to call our professional wildernesses. I’m reading countless posts on LinkedIn from people grieving jobs they loved, being moved into roles they never asked for, or accepting opportunities simply to pay the bills. The ground beneath us feels unsteady, and it can be easy to feel lost or overwhelmed in this season of uncertainty.

I know what that feels like. For years, my life was out of balance without me even realizing it. We normalize the un-normal until it takes something drastic to wake us up. Regaining my balance after surgery was humbling. I felt a deep insecurity: Why can’t I walk straight without wobbling? Why does something so natural now feel so impossible?

And yet, that physical imbalance mirrored what I later experienced at the mountaintop of my career. I ascended to the highest position in a company, that of CEO and I lost my balance there too. It was humbling, painful, confusing, isolating. What steadied me was a small circle of trusted friends who walked with me through that season. It marked the beginning of what I now call my “God Gap”, a pause for restoration, rebuilding, and reconnection.

By the grace of God, I got my balance back. But it didn’t happen overnight. Sometimes you really do need to take a nap, eat a sandwich, and then take another nap. We push ourselves to run the race without stopping, but to run it well, we have to care for ourselves. And if we’re honest, most of us don’t do that well.

Even Jesus modeled this rhythm. After His baptism, “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, He was hungry” (Matthew 4:1–2). It was then, when He was tired and weak that the enemy came. But Jesus stood firm, unwavering, countering every temptation with the Word of God until, as Scripture says, “the devil left Him, and angels came and attended Him” (Matthew 4:11). He rested. He recovered. He renewed His strength.

Throughout His ministry, Jesus often withdrew alone to pray and be with the Father, modeling the necessity of rest and reflection: “But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed” (Luke 5:16), and “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where He prayed” (Mark 1:35). These moments remind us that restoration and balance are essential, even for the Son of God.

I’ve clung to that mustard seed of faith through this process. And here’s what I’ve learned: it’s not about the mountain itself, but what you attach yourself to. A mustard seed is useless until it finds soil. Seed > soil, not faith > faith. Even the smallest faith, when rooted in a big God, can move mountains.

I’m Getting My Balance Back

“Mountain moments are followed by ground level battles.” — Pastor Rich Wilkerson

It’s often said in mountaineering circles that the summit is only halfway. The greater risk comes on the way down. Studies of Everest expeditions reveal that more than half of climbers who perish above 8,000 meters die during the descent, not the ascent. Why? Because the very things that carried them up, adrenaline, focus, determination begin to fade once the peak is behind them. Fatigue sets in, attention slips, and the sense of accomplishment tempts them to believe the hardest part is over.

Photo credit: Joseph Andrews

Leadership has its own descents. After launching a product, closing a deal, or delivering a keynote, it’s tempting to assume the work is finished. But it’s in the descent where culture is tested, where relationships need tending, and where exhaustion can cause missteps that undo hard-won progress. Reaching the summit is a triumph. Guiding people safely back down, that is what leadership looks like in my opinion.

Leg Day

Back when I used to train at the gym (no judgment!), I dreaded leg day. Because I knew what was coming: days of soreness and wobbly steps. And yet, strong legs are what gives the body balance. During my recovery, rebuilding that strength was excruciating. At times, the feelings of defeat felt insurmountable. But I had to keep going, retraining my legs to support me again.

Life works the same way. Balance comes through strength built in struggle.

Many of us are in seasons of transition, facing trials that feel all-consuming. I don’t know what your valley looks like, but here’s what I do know, my Muses: your mountain can’t grow, but your seeds can. Plant them. Nurture them. And over time, they will give you the strength to run your race with balance.

My heart is telling me this: if you need to talk, I’m here for you. Please reach out. You don’t have to walk this path alone.

Go forth and be the way. I’m rooting for you, always.