REPOST! Leadership 101

A repost from October 13, 2025, just as the furlough was beginning, at a time I still had good spirits. Things changed fast, didn’t they? Anyway, I’m recovering from the island life so bear with me as I continue sorting laundry, vacuuming endless amounts of sand, and remembering how to work with people. I’ll be back in full force soon!

A few forgotten things about leadership:

The potential you see in others means nothing without their buy-in. If they don’t want it for themselves, it’s a brutal lesson in futility. Yours.
You will spend more time at work than with your own family over the course of a lifetime. Best love what you do. And surround yourself with the right people.
Do not expect others to care the way you do. Alternately, you may not care the way they do. It’s ok.
It weighs a lot because it is insanely lonely at the top. The sleepless nights, the fights with other decision makers, the balance never found. You probably won’t have any friends and, if you do, watch out for perception. I am not inclined.

A lovely friend sent me the following graphic after she proudly exclaimed how I had “grown a pair”.

What she does not realize is for every day my “pair” swings, I have just as many softer moments, where I’m reminded to fight the good fight means not acting like a complete arsehole and picking my battles. Forever, a work in progress.

________________

I ask you –

What is your toughest leadership challenge?

(The post Leadership 101 first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

REPOST! Kindness is not Convenient

Another repost while I bask in the sunshine and salt water of island life. This post was a little special to me because I’m constantly reminding myself what I bring to the table. Hope you enjoy it!

“I sell pizza.”

That’s my new motto. Three seemingly small words which indicate a new heartfelt response. Epiphany? Maybe. Rebranding? Sort of. Reframe? Bingo.

I sell pizza. I don’t sell ice cream, or hotdogs, or juice boxes, or hamburgers, or any other version of convenient foods. Pizza. That’s what I sell.

What does this even mean?

Photo by Almira on Pexels.com

It means –

I don’t owe a dime and I don’t have to do anything. I owe it to myself to establish clear, direct boundaries. No further explanation. No long-winded and easily misconstrued version of trauma which led to…blah blah blah.

For some, pizza is the Michelin star in perfect triangular form. It can be customized, dressed up, transformed into an award winning dish. The pizza I sell? Cheese. I sell cheese pizza. Not because I’m boring or don’t want to put in the effort, but because cheese pizza is tried and true. It’s the basics. The foundation of pizza. Cheese.

You’ve probably figured out I’m going somewhere with this schpill. You are, right? When tested, I easily revert back to foundational principles – kindness often mistaken as weakness, or I shut down completely. Rarely do I come out fighting. All noble reactions yet kindness has not served me too well. Good thing kindness isn’t for you, Kel. Kindness is a reflection of the heart. It’s a desire to do better, be better, give others grace. It’s not easy. People test, they try, they dig in their heels, they make messes where no mess should ever be. At some point, kindness is overshadowed, and those without boundaries are the first to succumb.

Not this time. Not to the lady who sells pizza. Kindness is no longer a convenience, it’s a requirement. To be part of my world, kindness is a non-negotiable. Just because I sell pizza does not mean I will sell it to you.

Cheers to holding the line. And selling a damn good pizza pie.

_____________________

I ask you –

Did I miss any analogies?

(The post Kindness is not Convenient first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Choices

On the cusp of vacation, I remind myself to set clear boundaries regarding my time away. Work: true emergencies only, don’t forget you have a mandatory 2-hr teams call. Home: ehhh, Parts has it. Fun: enjoy every second!

The (partial) team!

Which leads me to a topic I know I’ve previously discussed on RoF. Two words: decision fatigue.

I don’t know the average number of decisions one makes a day, but I bet I outpace the average. By at least a hundred. As a leader, it’s expected and applauded to make decisions. I got it. Oftentimes, however, that role bleeds over into every other part of my life. And it’s tiring. I would still give the same percentage to my job even if I wasn’t being paid, but there is a level of expectation to relax while away from work, to simplify, to rest.

Perhaps I should approve a yes moratorium during vacation to combat the decision fatigue I will inevitably feel obligated to address. I’ll just say yes to everything. What do you want to eat? What time are we…? Do you want to stop here? How many minutes until…? When are we leaving? Where are we going? Have you…? Should we…?

Yes. The answer is yes. Does it truly answer a fraction of the questions? Meh. But the answer is yes! It never fails that at least a dozen instances will arise where I just remind everyone I, too, am on vacation and would really love to enjoy myself.

No more questions, please. Just yes.

____________________________

I ask you –

Is the most exhausting part of your day the decision-making?

(The post Choices first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

A girl and her purchases

It’s been “years” since we had a girl’s day, according to mini. So, during a midweek holiday, we drank coffee, shopped, and genuinely enjoyed not being rushed or fighting huge crowds of people with the same intentions.

On the drive home, the song Lowrider came on the radio. Mini’s body instinctively started moving. She just can’t help herself. Raised on good music from only the best decades (ahem), and with her dancer’s heart, her arms were moving, her head was going another direction, and her body was wiggling. She proudly exclaimed, “I don’t know what this is but it’s a jam!”

For posterity, of course

I support local

Noodle monster

She supports anything with boba

Earlier in the day, she couldn’t know I was lost in thought regarding a commercial – something about Kelsey Grammer saying veterans return from missions often hampered by internal and external turmoil, dealing with what they’ve seen or experienced but unable to openly share the struggles. It reminded me of a post I had seen that morning regarding how the stigma of PTSD was reduced by removing the D, the word disorder from it. PTS is somehow not as triggering as PTSD although the concept, symptoms, treatment, and worldview mostly remain the same. Are you following? The post went on to say just because you reduced the acronym doesn’t mean a veteran should reduce their need to firmly continue using the full PTSD terminology when seeking VA benefits or any kind of medical care.

Stay with me here. Mini couldn’t have known I was down this rabbit hole. We’re driving. Amicable silence. Me lost in thought. Apparently she was, too. Because she blurts out, “Mom, do grasshoppers bite?!” Her innocence knocked me out of my loophole. No, I don’t know if they bite. But I do know that perhaps the girl’s day was more about self-care and reconnection than it was about the shopping or the coffee.

The screenshot above is courtesy of Mission 22 via Instagram. There are several slides detailing the changes so please use the link I furnished to read further.

Moral of the story –

You can change the acronym but you can’t change the very real effects. You can remove a word but you can’t remove being seen. You can request the VA update their terminology but you should never expect a veteran to overlook what is happening to them and the care they deserve to receive.

____________________________

I ask you –

Ask mini how she pronounces purchases. Trust me. You’ll need this laugh!

(The post A girl and her purchases first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Global Influence

Interesting achievement, Word Press. Must be calculated by IP address. I wonder if I know anyone in those countries.

Random moment: Origins of the term “Tiger Team” – in case you were wondering, Tiger Team is a term popularized by NASA in the 60’s but originated by the military. Used to mean a group of experts, or those with specialized skills, I almost choke on my laughter because any time I’ve seen it used in the military, it was a ragtag bunch of whackadoos thrown together for some stupid task. It went about as well as expected.

The real topic of this post –

I’m often guilty of using the phrase “that’s not me”, typically in response to a stereotype or a general identifier. For example, for many years, when confirmed with the ability to obtain a PhD, I’d say “that’s not me”. Another example, stepping into the political realm, my response is “that’s not me”. However, the more I get to know me, the more I see me. A PhD was me, it’s always been me, but I was afraid of failure, afraid of starting, afraid of holding myself accountable to what my heart desired. The political stuff? Ugh, jury is still out.

Power and influence are found in certain individuals. Books tell us how to hone our power, leaders share examples of how they use their power, and we can watch television of power gone wrong. Big ugh.

There’s big power, sure. But what if power lies in a small tweak to our structure. A name change, if you will. Dr. Suddenly it’s a wide world, a new power, an upgraded influence, a calling which perhaps was always there, if not for the small whisper of “that’s not me”.

It is you, Kel. And it is time you start using it.

___________________________________

I ask you –

Is there something in your life you want to achieve or feel a calling for but doubt your ability to accomplish?

Did you know the origin of Tiger Team?!

(The post Global Influence first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

It’s all in the numbers

The amount of panic I feel when I’m told “the math doesn’t math” is both comical and terrifying. My head begins to scream ‘please don’t ask me!’ I like to believe I’m decent at math I am but not for fun or anything. I do the words. Not the numbers.

Imagine my mood after 2 days of number things. Crap mood, mental exhaustion, indescribable tiredness. And people really do this for a living? Whackadoo.

I like to imagine those are potato chips surrounding a laptop hahaha

The antiquated Air Force, and other branches I suspect, has done us no favors when data analysis is the actual future. I need numbers to justify decisions, to request funds, to build a business plan. The paper records we’re meticulously coveting? Not a useful format. So I spent days building templates for these paper numbers, to feed into a digital thing so I can perform trend analysis.

It was a huge undertaking. And my mood suffered immensely.

Interestingly, those who have a deep love or passion for numbers are considered methodical, even predictable. I don’t know if I completely buy into this; however, I will admit the numbers people should be very thankful it comes naturally to them. Because the rest of us? Well, I have a few new gray hairs.

_____________________

I ask you –

What are your thoughts on spreadsheets and Excel and numbers?

(The post It’s all in the numbers first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Not that kind of pilot!

I’m constantly humbled by opportunities to share my PhD journey. And I’m even more thankful to the military for the opportunity to obtain it.

Every chance I get, I tell people what the military did for my education. I have a $200K degree I didn’t pay for (in the traditional sense). Sure, they also paid a whopping $500K for my specialized military training. I’m easily worth 3/4 of a million dollars in education which makes me a billboard of information. However, what good is information if the people who need it don’t have access to it?

Which leads me here –

A week learning and growing into a role I see as mine for the taking. Attending a pilot course is a lot of pressure! Every day was a new pivot to absorb information, analyze data, or learn about myself. From resilience to SWOT analysis to mission/vision statements, every tool is available to be successful.

I genuinely believe every flight chief, activity manager, or leader at the course was willing and open to learn new things. Yet willingness is a funny concept. Not haha funny. For the 18 of us there, there are an equal number who may be unwilling to change. Perhaps even unable to change. Don’t shoot the messenger.

Many installations run the gamut from well-organized to actually in serious trouble. I heard some horror stories. I also heard stories of kindness and care. That’s the organization I want to serve

___________________________

I ask you –

When was the last time a training poured into you?

(The post Not that kind of pilot! first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Now What

The last few weeks have felt like a massive punt. A ginormous swipe left on everything. I don’t have time for this, for that, for any of these things. Delegate, relegate, and set a reminder to follow up. Frankly, it was overwhelming and disheartening. I couldn’t keep it together.

Thankfully, the tides turned. I was able to breathe again. Nothing felt crushing. Must be perimenopause. But did I really have to go through all that?!

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

‘Tis the seasons, right? We become complacent in having it together, then we’re hit with a crushing wave of every little thing at once and we lose sight of the sky above our ocean. Fortunately, this is normal. Shrug. Last week, I leveraged connections for a senior leader panel and, as I listened/moderated/tried not to laugh too loudly, I realized (again) this is where I belong. Every decision, every consequence, every moment has led to this. No one’s path is the same. According to those leaders, even they hadn’t imagined this was where they would end up. Sure, they had goals. But when they met the goal, they looked around and asked “now what?” The same thought has been my season for a short time. I’m here…now what?

It seems this post has come together better than I expected. Now what. It can be a question, a statement, or an exclamatory response. Perhaps the way the punctuation is shaped indicates how we react. Tone tells a story. Be present now. Right now.

_____________________

I ask you –

What season are you in now…personally? Professionally?

What will you do with it?

(The post Now What first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

Moments of Resilience

Turns out I’m allergic to patterned carpet. Dramatic much, Kel. Obviously I’m not allergic. More like averse to it. The patterns are optical and often symmetrical enough to prompt a very dizzying effect. Hotels, classrooms, and educational training sites often utilize this type of carpet which really causes issues with my brain. Or equilibrium. You know what else causes all the sneezing? Beautiful, resilient, blooms, like these flowers. How can something so gorgeous create so many issues?!

CMSgt Fabrienne Burnett

This incredible woman made a few last minute stops on her way to retirement and I was so humbled to be a part of her waypoint. You see, she just returned from deployment in a war-torn, volatile area. Sure, she’s done her fair share of deployments but the emotion I felt in her presence was stained with exhaustion, and dare I say, an undercurrent of hurt. The sheer fact that she took it upon herself to say goodbye rather than fading into R&R without a rear view speaks volumes of her commitment. CMSgt Burnett is one of a kind. I’ve seen some good ones, but she is a great one. And to say she will be missed is an understatement. At a recent commander’s call, our commander asked for a raise of hands to indicate who knew or had been impacted by Chief. Nearly the entire room had a hand raised. As I looked around at the faces of those with their hands up, it was apparent the impression she had made. People were smiling. And that’s what people did when they saw her in her office, out and about, in their spaces. They smiled. She cared. And she will be missed.

All this to say, the empathic part of me accepted her emotions. As the day went on, I kept coming back to those emotions, visible in her eyes and the long hug – needing connection, stability, and a listening ear. The next day, I had grand plans to run, to do things, to be productive. Instead, I couldn’t find the energy. I knew if I didn’t sit with the emotions, my mind and body would eventually force me to do so. When it hits, there’s no pause button, no “please schedule a time…”. So I sat. I rested. I felt. This is the resilience we often speak of. The acknowledgement to ourselves we are strong, even when weak.

Even as the flowers are beautiful, they are equally resilient. If only my nose was the same.

________________

I ask you –

Have you someone in your life who embodies the core of resiliency?

(The post Moments of Resilience first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

I Sit Alone

I’ve started, restarted, paused, abandoned, and now wait for the finality of a draft post, titled The Day I Had Coffee with Her. Some time ago, there was a social media trend of the same title, basically stating what you would tell your younger self. A few posts that came across my feed were very deep, mentioning trauma and abuse, while some just shared encouraging memories. I jumped on the proverbial wagon, but I didn’t finish it. Yet.

In a way, this is my homage to the unfinished post.

I sit alone. And I am unafraid. Never lonely. Yet alone. Some events make me question myself. Some even bring back very tough memories or experiences. Some I thought I was over. Turns out I’m not. So I sit alone with the pain.

Even when the fear ebbs and wanes, I am unafraid. Fear is psychological and I am aware of my limitations, my weaknesses, my inability to turn away from feeling it. Fear is not failure. And words do not own me. So I protect me by sitting alone.

Those old patterns are tempting. Too easy to return to my old ways. But I know every curve in the road, every pothole waiting to derail me. Swerve. I sit alone, in the driver’s seat, in control.

It’s lonely at the top. When the decisions rest on my shoulders and hard news is hard on everyone. I sit alone, pondering how much easier it would have been to gloss over the truth, to abandon what must be said. I could invite others to sit with me. Yet the consequences are far too great. I sit alone out of self-respect.

I’m not sorry for choosing to sit alone, when the choice is mine. I’m not a failure for sitting alone when the choice is made for me. Sitting is an opportunity to rest. And no one knows me better than me. So I sit alone.

________________

I ask you –

Are you familiar with the “Coffee with Her” trend?

(The post I Sit Alone first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)