Pace Yourself

This afternoon I'm headed back to work for a stretch of 10 straight days and 15 of the next 16 in four different cities.

Which is exactly why these last four days felt like two weeks.

Susan and I spent them wandering through Eureka Springs, Arkansas during the All-Star break, exploring art galleries, drinking great coffee, hiking, laughing, and doing something that's hard to do during baseball season: letting someone else set the clock. For a few days, my schedule belonged to me.

All-Star Break in Eureka Springs, AR

And I can't wait to get back to the stadium.

That might sound strange because this has been a disappointing season. Expectations were high, and nobody in the Royals organization is satisfied with the way the first half has gone. But after 19 seasons covering the team and 32 years in television, I've learned that you can't sprint through a marathon.

When I first joined the Royals in 2008, my mentor, the late Paul Splittorff, pulled me aside and said something I've never forgotten: "There are a lot of important people paid to lose sleep over the losses, and you're not one of them." At first, I wasn't sure what he meant because, of course, I cared about winning and I still do. But Splitt wasn't telling me not to care. He was reminding me to stay in my lane.

My job is to prepare, stay curious, bring energy, treat people well, and uncover stories worth telling and lessons worth learning, whether they come after a walk-off win or a frustrating loss. If I spend all my energy carrying things that aren't mine to carry, I won't have enough left to do the job I've actually been given.

That lesson reaches far beyond baseball.

Everywhere I go to speak, I meet leaders, business owners, teachers, coaches, and parents who are tired. They're navigating uncertainty, changing expectations, economic pressures, family responsibilities, and challenges they didn't create. Just like a 162-game season, there's no finish line this week. You have to keep showing up tomorrow.

That's why pacing matters. Rest isn't the opposite of commitment. It's what makes commitment sustainable. Taking time to refill the tank isn't a sign that you're less dedicated. It's what allows you to keep bringing the same version of yourself to the people who count on you.

That's Small Ball.

The best performers I've been around don't burn brighter. They burn steadier.

So here's my question:

What helps you refill your tank so the people around you keep getting the best version of you?