Each spring, people attack their homes with a kind of focused energy that the rest of the year never quite produces. Windows get cleaned. Closets get emptied. Drawers get sorted. The clutter that’s been sitting in the corner of the garage since 2019 finally gets its day. There’s something deeply satisfying and cleansing about the whole exercise - not just the result, but the decisions. This stays. This goes. This no longer belongs here. We do this in our homes as the days get

Nobody told me that when I got my cancer diagnosis, I was also getting a leadership test. I found out on a Thursday. By Friday morning I was back at my desk, fielding calls, running a meeting, making decisions for an organization that serves tens of thousands of people. Not because I was fine. I wasn’t fine. But because I was the CEO, and I had spent thirty years believing — without ever examining the belief — that my job was to project stability regardless of what was happen

Last week, Los Angeles Marathon organizers did something unsettling. With temperature forecasts climbing, race organizers offered runners an official option: stop at mile 18, take a shuttle to the finish line, and collect the same finisher medal as everyone who ran all 26.2 miles. It was going to be hot. And nobody should die for a race. But a marathon is not a suggestion. It’s not a goal range or a general direction. It is a specific, ancient, non-negotiable agreement with

For most of my adult life, I told myself I just wasn’t a morning person. I’d hit snooze. Reach for my phone before my feet hit the floor. Scroll through email, check the news, absorb everyone else’s urgency before I’d had a single intentional thought of my own. By the time I walked into the office, I was already reactive — already behind — already running on someone else’s agenda instead of my own. And I was the CEO of a $28 million organization, responsible for the wellbeing

People mean well. I know that. After I finished cancer treatment - and still to this day - the questions come in waves - texts, emails, handshakes at events, conversations in parking lots after meetings. And almost every single one of them ends the same way: “So you’re all good now, right?” I smile. I nod. I say something like, “It seems so and I’m feeling good” because that’s what the moment seems to call for. People want relief. They’d worried about me, prayed for me, check

First Catherine O’Hara on January 30th, then James Van Der Beek just days ago on February 11th. Both gone from colorectal cancer. Both far too soon. And as a two-time cancer survivor myself, their deaths don’t just make me sad. They terrify me. Catherine O’Hara was 71 when a pulmonary embolism caused by rectal cancer took her life. She’d been in treatment since March 2025, though like so many cancer patients, she kept her battle private. James Van Der Beek was only 48— a de

Talent Concierge ® Artists Agency (TCAA), a premier boutique agency representing world-class speakers, thought leaders, and brand ambassadors, announces the signing of Dr. Jeffrey Reynolds, a nationally respected nonprofit executive, keynote speaker, bestselling author, cancer survivor, and Ironman triathlete. Reynolds brings a powerful combination of lived experience, executive leadership, and disciplined performance to audiences seeking clarity, resilience, and sustainable

Discover how cancer and endurance sports taught me about living with uncertainty.

Here’s what “all good” really means most of the time: “I’m not going to make this awkward.” “I don’t want conflict.” “I’m too tired to address this.” “I don’t think my concerns matter.” “I’m pretending this doesn’t bother me even though it absolutely does.”

Think about a skill you used to have that you haven’t practiced in years. Can you still do it as well? Of course not. That’s not maintenance - that’s atrophy with a friendlier name attached to it.

Real gratitude - the kind that actually sustains you - doesn’t look like the social media version of Thanksgiving.