Want High Performance? Think Semi Truck, Not Drag Car.

We've never had a runner in the family before. I am definitely not a runner. 

Some of you reading this know that thing you call running zen, or a runner's high. I don't know that I'll ever understand it. But I'm very happy for you.

So when it comes to coaching my son, honestly, I don't know how. Mostly it's a lot of encouragement, a lot of empathy, and a little bit of research, just trying to be a good dad and support him along the way.

He's a true competitor. As the season goes on, he wants to beat his own time. He's looking for that PR. Running is an individual sport in that way. It's you against the clock, getting a little better each time out.

And here's what I'm learning from my twelve-year-old.

Energy isn't the problem. Enthusiasm isn't the problem. After he runs a 3K, he's beaming, telling me how much he loves it and how he can't wait for the next meet. Community isn't the problem either. He's got some really good friends who run with him. They laugh and joke through warm-ups, encourage each other when they're side by side in the race, and afterward it's a bunch of sweaty junior high boys high-fiving. Legitimate camaraderie.

What's hard is pacing.

It's hard to know how hard to push right off the start line. He's watched some of his friends hit it so fast, so early, that they don't have enough left to finish. Other times he's worried he started too slow. He makes his final sprint, crosses the line, and feels like maybe there was more gas in the tank he could have used. And in the middle of the race, because his body and mind are still new to all this, it's hard to even tell whether he's holding the same pace, let alone gradually dialing it up.

It turns out that's one of the harder skills to learn.

Maybe it's because we're having these conversations at home, but lately I'm seeing pacing everywhere. It keeps coming up with the managers and leaders we work with.

Some of you (we've talked) feel like you're sprinting in a season that's asking for a much longer distance. Some of you are pushing hard and know you're capable of more, but the people around you can't keep up.

Because unlike cross country, leadership isn't an individual sport. It's not just about your own time. You're responsible for getting the whole group somewhere.

You've heard me say it before: leadership is a lot like taking a hike. You're the trail guide. You cast the vision, set the pace, set the tempo, and then keep that group of people together as you go down the trail. If you're new to leading, the way my son is new to distance running, setting that pace may not come intuitively. That's okay. It's a skill, and skills can be learned.

We see this at the very top, too. Picture a visionary founder or CEO tethered to the operations of the organization. It's like a speedboat tethered to an aircraft carrier. The speedboat wants to make waves, go fast, and make tight turns. The carrier simply can't move that way. The leaders who learn to navigate that tension get something rare: vision and operations moving in the same direction, at a speed the whole organization can actually hold.

In our work, the leaders who consistently get the most out of their people treat pace as something they set on purpose, built into their regular rhythms, rather than something that just happens to the team. 

Here's what that looks like.

1. Audit your pace.

When's the last time you checked whether your pace is reasonable? I know "reasonable" is highly subjective. So ask it this way: what will it actually take to get where we want to go, and will it burn out the humans getting us there?

One of my favorite leaders I get to work with says it like this: "I know my pace is asking people to bend, but I do not want to break them."

That's good to know. And the only way to know it is to check in. eNPS, satisfaction surveys, 360s, honest questions in your one-on-ones. Whatever the tool, build in a way to find out whether the pace you've set is one everyone can follow.

Remember, we're not trying to go a thousand miles an hour. We're trying to go a million miles. Think semi truck, not drag car. If you want the people you're building to be the ones who retire with you in that building, the pace has to be one they can sustain.

2. Clarify your pace.

When we talk vision, we usually mean direction. Where are we going? But part of a clear vision is also how fast we need to move to get there.

When I switched from an hourly role to a salaried one, my new manager explained that he designs salaried job descriptions in his department to take 45 to 50 hours a week. On purpose. He knew the job would ask for more than a normal forty, and he told me up front. He clarified the pace.

When's the last time you did that? It doesn't have to be a town hall. It could be a weekly team meeting, an executive meeting, or a one-on-one: "For us to win, here's how fast we need to move. Here's the energy and effort this is going to take." People can pace themselves when they know the distance.

3. Say the awkward part out loud.

You've heard Josh and me say this before. When someone isn't keeping up, the most loving, respectful, dignified thing you can do is get really good at the conversation that says, "Hey, you're falling behind." It's one of the most important skills a leader can build.

Praise in public, correct in private. This is where your one-on-ones earn their keep. Look them in the eye: "I see your effort. I see your energy. I see how much you're doing. And right now, it's not keeping up with where we need to be. Let's brainstorm together what we do about that."

Maybe they're in the wrong seat on the bus. Maybe they need upskilling, or training you can provide. Either way, you're either helping them keep up, or helping them find a team where they can.

Jocko Willink puts it bluntly in Extreme Ownership: there are no bad teams, only bad leaders. That can sting at first. But flip it over and it's good news. If someone's falling behind, doing something about it is within your reach.

Picture your team a few months from now. Everyone knows the distance. The pace stretches people without breaking them. And nobody is quietly drifting off the back of the pack... because you cared enough to say something.

That's a team that can go the distance, together.