More than a decade ago, after years of training and trying, I finally landed a spot in the New York City Marathon. But just 48 hours before the race, Hurricane Sandy devastated the city and the marathon was cancelled.
Like thousands of other runners, I had already travelled to New York and was scrambling to get home. And somewhere between airports, trains, and exhaustion, I had a realization: My disappointment was nothing compared to the devastation people in New York were facing.
When I finally got home, a friend offered to fly me to another marathon happening the next day. Instead, I told her that if she would be open to donating the airfare money to Hurricane Sandy relief—I would instead run the 26.2 miles on the trail system near my house. She happily agreed!
Before collapsing into bed, I quickly posted the idea on Facebook: “I’m home safe. Running a DIY “charity marathon” tomorrow. If you’d like to donate to support New York, here’s how.”
I woke up 8-hours later to something I’ll never forget.
My phone had exploded.
The post had gone viral.
People I didn’t know were donating from all over the country.
Runners I’d never met were asking if they could join.
When I arrived at the trail that afternoon, there was a crowd! Not just supporters—runners. People who had decided to lace up and run with me. Some for a mile, some for the full 26.2. By the end, thousands of dollars had been raised, and TV reporters were waiting at the finish line.
That day changed the way I understand leadership.
Most people want to help.
Most people want to make a difference.
Most people want to show up.
They just don’t know where to begin.
And often, all they need is someone—anyone—to take the first step.
That’s the part of the story that still hits me the hardest—because it reminds me of how easy it is to play small. To assume our actions won’t matter. To wait for someone else to go first.
But leadership is rarely about having the perfect plan.
It’s about taking one meaningful step—and trusting that others will follow.
As you look ahead to 2026, here’s the question I’m asking myself, and maybe it’s worth asking yourself, too:
Where have I been waiting and where should I be leading? And what small action could I take to clear the path for others?
Because when you lead the way—even imperfectly—you give other people permission to do the same.
