The Penalties of Leadership (Part 1 & 2)

As a young man, there was no place I would rather be on a brisk Saturday morning in the fall than the pregame locker room at a jammed (okay gently) packed Ryan’s Field—Northwestern. No experience quite compares to the caged intensity of our corporate prayer, followed by the heart-pounding adrenaline rush of rubbing our symbolic “TRUST YOURSELF” two-by-four, as we charged downhill through the fog and into battle on the gridiron.

More than two decades removed from this experience, I can vividly recall the sounds and sensations. I can feel the butterflies and the goosebumps. I can hear the pride of our band and the fight song, punching through the roar of the crowd to welcome us. I can see the look in my fellow captains’ eyes, as we locked arms to walk out for the ceremonial coin toss. (Co-Captains: Jason Wright, President, Washington Commanders and Louis Ayeni, Running Backs Coach, Denver Broncos).

Standing at the fifty-yard line with the letter "C" embroidered on my jersey was one of the greatest honors ever bestowed upon me. It symbolized my leadership journey and the thousands of hours of work that led up to that singular pregame moment. It represented sacrifice. It represented hardship. But most importantly, being selected as a captain by a vote of my peers meant I carried the trust and respect of the locker room.

Being named senior captain, in many ways, is a college “lifetime” achievement award. It acknowledges your unwavering leadership throughout some of the most challenging circumstances—on and off the field. Over the years, we had our share of highs and lows, but nothing shakes you to the core quite like the tragic collapse and death of a teammate during a summer workout.

What is often lost in all the pageantry of college football is the mental and physical toll of being a player.

The dog days of preseason camp. The early morning offseason winter workouts. The grueling demand of the injury-ridden spring football practices. The “voluntary” captains-led summer conditioning. Not to mention the equally heavy workload of being a college student—particularly at a rigorous institute of higher learning such as Northwestern.

There were times when I thought I had nothing left in the tank, but I would dig deep and summon the strength to uplift my teammates. Through these situations, I became intimately acquainted with the concept of servant leadership. You learn quickly not everyone has the capacity to look beyond their circumstances to lift others; some people are exerting maximum effort just to meet expectations. This is where the distinction between leaders and individual contributors becomes clear. (By "leader" I'm referring to a mindset, above and beyond any title or position.) Leaders must rise above their own challenges to guide, support, and inspire their teams, whereas individual contributors may focus primarily on their own tasks and responsibilities. Effective leadership requires a broader vision and the willingness to prioritize the collective good over personal convenience.

We have all heard the saying, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” I would argue the same words hold true for servant leadership. As a leader, you work tirelessly to ensure everyone else is being fed before partaking yourself—often leaving your plate to grow cold or potentially run out of food altogether. This type of leadership extends far beyond the surface. It is pervasive throughout your entire sphere of influence. It could be as simple as a mother being the last to serve herself dinner to the extreme example of the Titanic captain going down with the sinking ship.

Learning how to lead from the back to keep everyone moving forward was as powerful a lesson as any course over my college experience. It is my most valued skill and the one that has been most transferable into my corporate career.

The lessons I learned on the football field at Northwestern have stayed with me throughout my life, influencing both my personal and professional journeys. The values of leadership, sacrifice, and perseverance that were ingrained in me during those formative years have become the guiding principles in how I navigate the complexities of adulthood. As I transitioned from being a student-athlete to a career professional, the balance of responsibilities shifted, but the core tenets remained consistent.

My entire college experience revolved around athletics and academics. Balancing the responsibilities of being a student-athlete was a masterclass in prioritization, as dedicating more time to one area meant diverting attention from the other. It required constant assessment and reassessment of your time allocation to ensure adequate focus on each area.

Two decades removed, I find myself in the same conundrum with the binary that exists between family and work.

Having been raised by a single mother, I understand the importance of being a present father. However, having worked nearly a decade as a customer of the railroads, being an engaging commercial leader is equally as critical. I am hypersensitive to the shipper experience—regardless of size. My experience in managing rail logistics spanned from small to large. This diverse experience helps me better understand the perspective of our customers at each level—keeping my past shipper experience top of mind during every interaction.

During my time as a customer of the railroad, effort sometimes felt optional. Since I began my corporate career working in sales for a Class 1 railroad, I extended more grace than most to my sales representatives. I understood firsthand the challenges they were up against in terms of the disproportionate internal focus. My background also made me fairly self-sufficient. I knew all the various railroad departments to help me resolve my issues. As such, I only reached out to my rep having exhausted all my efforts. Still, when I did, I often felt like an inconvenience.

When I accepted this role as Head of Sales & Marketing, my goal was to offer the railroad shipper community an experience that differed from the one I previously encountered. I want our customers to feel seen and heard and know that we deeply value their business. These efforts are certainly easier said than done, with significantly more customers than CSX commercial professionals. We strive to do our best, but at times we fall short, as railroad marketing and sales can be akin to a treadmill that is steadily increasing in miles per hour.

Part of the challenge has been the rigors of the job itself, the added pace has been in pursuit to uphold my standard and how I desire to show up—for my team, for my leadership and, most importantly, for our customers.

I continue to learn and grow in my leadership, while being stretched in ways that can be downright uncomfortable. But I did not sign up for comfort. I signed up to make a difference.

And sometimes, often times, making a difference means having the courage to stay the course on the road less traveled.

We often conflate being “stretched” with growth, but sometimes stretching occurs when you are anchored firmly to a position while being pulled in the opposite direction. Regardless, there is ultimately growth in learning to stand your ground.

I approach my roles as a commercial leader and committed father with same passion and intensity. Life for me primarily exists along these two axes. This duality has remained unchanged for over a decade. However, as my family has grown in size and my corporate career in stature, the push-pull dynamic in work-life balance has never been more prevalent. The tension between the forces pushing me to work feverishly and the forces pulling me to parent more intentionally require a constant balancing act to maintain a healthy equilibrium.

The truth of the matter is the higher you ascend in leadership, the more time the job requires. Thus, the harder the balance between the two worlds. There are a finite number of hours in a day. They do not magically increase with our expanded responsibilities. Time is neither created nor destroyed, it is merely transferred. Giving additional time to either area means essentially robbing Peter to pay Paul, or in this instance, robbing home to pay bills…

PART 2

A few years ago, my youngest son, Miles, developed a ritual of making me artwork. When I would travel, he would craft me something special and mask it on the desk in my home office amongst other papers. It became a sacred pastime for him. And, no doubt, a way to feel connected to his father from a distance.

When I would return home, it was extremely important that everyone acted natural and did not spoil the surprise of the carefully tucked artwork. However, if I took too long taking my shoes off, or greeting his mom, siblings, or the dog, I would receive a gentle reminder from an overenthusiastic Miles.

“Daddy! Daddy! Don’t forget to look in your office when you get done.” He would command, as he tugged on my pant leg in ardent anticipation.

The first few business trips, I was genuinely surprised. But afterwards, I had to channel my best Denzel Washington impersonation and act the part. The look of excitement on his face leading up to the discovery was priceless. Equally as invaluable was the sense of accomplishment he embodied when I would be “blown away” by his drawings.

Candidly, I could tell when Miles rushed through the process verses when he patiently took his time to create something truly impressive. Regardless of his effort, my response remained consistent. I understood that if my enthusiasm waned it would be to my detriment, as I had become extremely fond of his welcome-home artwork.

After a long and sometimes exhausting business trip, it was just the subtle pick-me-up needed to help keep proper perspective on what was most important—family. Trip after trip, I wondered if this would be the one time he would forget, or worse he would suddenly outgrow this thoughtful gesture. However, as months have quickly turned into years, he has remained steadfast in his commitment to his craft.

Miles’ artwork tradition began in the aftermath of COVID, when I was thrusted back into work travel after an unprecedented two-year hiatus. He was only two-and-a-half years old when the entire world came to a grinding halt—hardly old enough to remember a time when Daddy left the house for work. In 2022, as the nation began to reopen, Miles was now four-and-a-half years old and more aware of his surroundings. As a result, my absence became acutely pronounced.

As our family worked to adjust to life after the shutdown, we quickly found ourselves in unanticipated transition. I accepted my current role with CSX, which meant we would once again be relocating. Only this time, it would require us living apart—for an extended period—for the first time.

This temporary family dislocation only exacerbated my absence, adding to Miles’ growing perception of my job’s impact on our family dynamic.

In the beginning, Miles’ drawings typically included some variation of hearts, footballs, and stick figures, complemented by backwards d’s and e’s conveying a touching message like “I love you daddy!” or “best dad ever!” Over the years, his drawing skills have become more advanced as stick figures have graduated into fully-padded football players—an ode to our shared love of the sport.

About 6-months ago, I began to observe a stark change in the themes of Miles’ artwork. The mood and messaging shifted negatively. There was no longer a presence of endearing words. The hearts, if any, were now shattered in two pieces. The persons in the picture representing me and him were now either sad or frowning.

At first, I chalked it up to Miles’ frustration in the moment. However, trip after trip the theme remained consistent while the images became increasingly more demonstrative.

He even began to include the letters CSX in the picture.

In one image, there appeared to be a battle taking place between Miles and a CSX fighter with the word “Dad” inside of a heart in between the two opponents.

At this point, it was clear Miles was trying to convey a message through his drawings. So, I sat him down to have a conversation. He shared that when I was in Jacksonville, and the rest of the family was still in Chicago, despite being sad about the move he was excited for the family to all be back together. But now that everyone is in Jacksonville, he still barely gets to spend time with me because I am always traveling.

Rather than challenge his use of absolutes, I continued to listen and probe to better understand his perspective. I was conscious not to dismiss his lived experience or treat him as if his feelings were invalid. I acknowledged the fact that my work travel has been intense. I even tried to empathize with his perspective. I shared that when I was a kid my total focus was on the “today.” What am I going to do today? How much fun can I fill my day with? That was the extent of my worries and concerns. However, when I became an adult my focused shifted to “tomorrow.” How am I preparing today for the needs of tomorrow? How can I put my family in the best possible position for success in the future? I wanted him to know that I will always have his best interest at heart despite the circumstances not being ideal. I was quick to note that this challenge is not CSX-specific.

This is ultimately the penalties of leadership.

In fact, in my short two-and-a-half years, CSX has gone out of its way to create more opportunities to bring families together than any organization I have previously worked for.

Miles understood the message but ultimately life in a kid’s mind is simple. Love is even more straightforward. “If you love me, you will make time for me.” It is truly that fundamental. I know personally from past childhood experience. And while the circumstances may be entirely different the feeling of absenteeism for a child remains consistent.

This realization has been a profound reminder of the importance of balancing work and family. As leaders, we often get caught up in the demands of our careers, but it is crucial to remember that our presence and attention at home are just as important. By being available for our loved ones, we not only strengthen our family bonds but also become better leaders, grounded in the values that truly matter.?

If there is one consistent message I have heard from colleagues with adult children, it is to 'Cherish this time. It will go by fast.'

Although I cannot slow down time, I am dedicated to applying the same level of process rigor to my family life that I previously reserved exclusively for my professional responsibilities. This includes setting clear boundaries for work and home life, ensuring that moments with my family are not disrupted by professional obligations (to the degree that I can in a 24-hour operation). I have made it a priority to be present for important family events and to regularly check in with each member to understand their needs and feelings.

In addition, I am establishing new family traditions and reinforcing existing ones (e.g., Friday movie and game nights, Saturday morning workouts, Sunday church service) to create lasting memories and a sense of stability.

By treating family time with the same level of importance as business activities, I aim to strike a better balance that will benefit both my personal and professional life. This conscious effort to prioritize my wife and kids will undoubtedly lead to a more harmonious home environment and greater personal and professional fulfillment.

The path of leadership is often defined by the sacrifices and hurdles we encounter, yet it is these very challenges that cultivate true growth and strength. My experience is likely familiar to numerous corporate leaders in their mid-forties with young children, striving to secure their family's future while endeavoring to remain present. Balancing work and family require a deliberate effort to prioritize what is truly significant, ensuring that professional duties do not eclipse the importance of being there for our loved ones.

Leadership, in its truest form, is about serving others and making a positive impact, no matter the circumstances.