The Year I Stopped Sprinting
Why slowing down might be the most ambitious goal of 2026.
January has main-character energy.
We wake up convinced this is the year we move faster, do more, and finally get everything right. New goals. New routines. New pressure to prove we are progressing. The year begins, and immediately, we sprint.
That instinct to sprint usually doesn’t start at work. It starts much earlier—in school—where urgency becomes normal and exhaustion becomes expected.
Don’t get me wrong. As a student, I spent plenty of late nights in engineering help rooms, staring at a screen and wondering why I chose this major. Some of that struggle was necessary. Sitting with hard problems, feeling frustrated, and pushing through concepts I didn’t yet understand is part of how learning happens. Life isn’t always butterflies and rainbows, and that’s okay.
What mattered most wasn’t avoiding those moments, but how I moved through them. Staying up late was sometimes required. Being tired came with the territory. The difference was having people around me who cared—people who checked in, who wanted the best for me, who reminded me I wasn’t alone. Family, friends, mentors, or anyone willing to say, you don’t have to do this by yourself.
That mindset followed me into my career, but in a different way.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learn that saying yes is what makes us look committed. Yes to more work. Yes to more responsibility. Yes even when we’re already stretched thin. Commitment starts to look like constant availability. Leadership starts to look like never slowing down.
But saying yes to everything doesn’t make you a better professional or a better leader.
It burns you out.
Real leadership includes knowing when to say no—and when to ask for support. It also means recognizing that sometimes support isn’t given, even when you ask. And when that happens, it’s okay to pivot. It’s okay to move toward environments where you feel supported, challenged, and able to keep growing.
This year, instead of sprinting, I chose to slow down.
I picked two goals that matter to me and that I can realistically sustain. No dramatic reinvention. No pressure to overhaul my entire life. Just intentional commitments I can keep alongside work, school, and everything else life brings.
This year isn’t about becoming a completely new version of myself by December. It’s about living in the moment, learning as I go, and allowing mistakes without turning them into personal failures.
2026 is not a sprint.
It’s a 365-day walk.
There will be wrong turns, tired days, and moments when you question your pace. But running faster doesn’t make the year end sooner. It only changes how you feel when you get there.
One person arrives burned out.
The other arrives grounded, supported, growing—and most importantly, present.
