Bigger Than The Room

The airport was packed.

I almost didn't clock it as anything. You fly enough for work, a busy terminal is just another day. But today it caught my attention, because everywhere I look right now someone is telling me the economy is pulling back, consumers are tightening up, people are staying home. And yet here was a terminal full of people going somewhere.

I stood there with my bag and something in me just ... loosened.

I'd spent the days leading up to my first IDFA NextGen module doing what I always do before something that matters to me ... running through materials one more time, thinking too hard about what to wear, quietly wondering what a room full of people I'd only ever seen on LinkedIn would think of me. Small stuff, individually. Together it's a full-time job of trying to arrive already impressive.

Standing in that terminal, watching a thousand strangers move through their own versions of that same nervous energy, I felt very small. Not in a bad way, but in the way that actually helps. One person, in one industry, in one very large world that keeps moving whether or not I've re-read the briefing packet a third time.

So instead of spending that first night in my hotel room, I went out. I explored the city. I had the extra glass of wine. I put myself in front of people with zero hesitation, because, turns out, that was always going to serve me better than being the most prepared person in the room.

I kept that same energy for the rest of the week. Instead of rehearsing my introduction between sessions, I just talked to people. Instead of holding back in group discussions until I'd fully worked out the "right" answer, I said the half-formed version out loud and let the room help me finish the thought. It felt uncomfortable at first, given I'm someone who likes to arrive at conclusions before I share them, but somewhere around day two I noticed the discomfort had quietly turned into something closer to ease.

By the end of the week, I had a little proof that the shift was real. Nothing dramatic — just a passing comment that made its way back to me secondhand, the kind of thing that tells you people experienced you the way you were hoping to be experienced, without you having to perform for it. It landed harder than any compliment I could have angled for, because I hadn't been angling for it at all. I'd just been myself, out loud, in front of people who didn't know me yet.

That same trust got tested again on our evening tour of the Capitol. Someone on the tour said something that's been sitting with me since: the future is shaped by those who show up. It's such a simple sentence that it's almost easy to miss how true it is. We'd spent the day on the Hill hearing from people who spend their entire careers in rooms most of us never see. The rooms where decisions get made that eventually impact the 550+ member farm families that make up cooperatives like Foremost Farms. I didn't leave DC wanting a career in politics. I left wanting to know more about that room. Knowledge is power, and right now there's a whole layer of decision-making shaping our industry that I want to understand well enough to advocate for the people I represent.

One of the other threads running through the week was about timing. Several conversations touched on the idea that good leadership isn't just about having the right instincts, it's about knowing when to act on them. You can't fix everything at once, chase every priority in the same quarter, or push every change through the moment you spot it. Some things need to wait their turn. I've been sitting with that all weekend, because it's exactly where I am right now: leading a team through real change, wanting to move fast on all of it, and slowly learning that patience is its own kind of leadership skill.

Here's where I landed, less than six months into being called "Director": I am not going to be the perfect leader. Nobody actually expects me to be — that pressure was mine, not theirs. What got me here wasn't a flawless track record. It was showing up as myself, learning in public, and trusting that the version of me who got the seat is allowed to keep it without performing for it.

I also happened to celebrate my birthday over the weekend. So call it a theme: getting older, getting a little wiser, and finally believing that the version of me who shows up loose beats the version who shows up rehearsed.

Deep breath. Show up. Be yourself. That's the whole point.