One of the easiest ways to get bad information as a leader is to punish the person who gives you information you do not like. You may never announce that disagreement is unwelcome. You probably will not put it in an employee handbook. But people are remarkably good at figuring out what happens when someone challenges the boss. Maybe the person gets cut out of the next meeting. Maybe their idea is dismissed before they finish explaining it.

There is a version of leadership that looks impressive from the outside. The leader is everywhere. Every decision comes through them. Every problem gets escalated to them. They know every detail, answer every question, and somehow keep the whole thing moving. People usually call that dedication.

Road America finally gave the No. 46 car the result it had been working toward all season. The No. 64 had a more difficult afternoon. We arrived at Road America encouraged by the progress we had made with both cars. The handling was improving, the setups were beginning to transfer more effectively between the 46 and the 64, and for the first time this year, we felt like we were developing a clearer direction across the team.

Agreement feels good. It makes meetings shorter. Decisions move faster. Nobody leaves the room irritated. If you are the person in charge, a team that agrees with you can make you feel pretty smart. That should probably make you nervous. I have spent enough time in business, healthcare research, and racing to know that disagreement is often where the useful work starts.

We went into Watkins Glen feeling optimistic. Team TGM had tested at Watkins Glen a few weeks earlier, so we arrived with recent experience and a reasonable sense of what we thought the cars would need. Testing is valuable because it gives you time to work through setups, gather data, and arrive at race weekend with fewer unknowns. At least, that is the idea.

Most organizations say they value accountability. Far fewer actually build systems around it. In leadership, mistakes are unavoidable. Decisions get made with incomplete information. Strategies fail. Communication breaks down. Sometimes execution simply falls short. The real difference between strong leadership teams and struggling ones is not whether mistakes happen. It is what happens after they do.

Racing has a way of humbling you quickly. You can spend weeks preparing, reviewing data, refining setup, and building strategy, only for a race weekend to go sideways in a matter of laps. That’s part of the sport. And honestly, it’s part of what keeps people coming back. Our recent weekend at WeatherTech Raceway Laguna Seca was a perfect example of how unpredictable racing can be. One car had an outstanding race. The other barely had a chance to race at all.

When a race ends, most people focus on the result. Where you finished.Who won.What went wrong or right. But in racing, the real work starts after the checkered flag. Because the result tells you what happened. Data tells you why

Leadership is often discussed in terms of strategy, decision-making, and results. Those matter. But there’s another responsibility that doesn’t get as much attention, and it shapes everything else: Setting the tone. Whether it’s intentional or not, leaders establish the environment in which their teams operate. How they communicate, how they respond under pressure, what they tolerate, what they prioritize—all of it sends a signal. And over time, those signals become cul

The race almost ended before it started. There was a 10-car pileup before we even got going. In this series, that’s not something you expect to see. Cars were checking up. The field compressed quickly. There was nowhere to go, and everything happened at once. In moments like that, you don’t have time to think through options. You react.

There’s a psychological reason busyness is so appealing. Responding to messages, attending meetings, and resolving immediate issues creates the sense that work is getting done. These activities are visible and measurable. They create the appearance of momentum. But they often focus on short-term inputs rather than long-term outcomes. Many leaders find themselves spending entire days reacting rather than directing. The schedule fills itself with operational issues, leavi

People see the speed. They see the pass in Turn 1. They see the podium photo. They see the lap time. What they don’t see is the mental preparation in motorsport that makes any of it possible. In racing, the margin for error is measured in inches and milliseconds. You are operating at high speed, surrounded by competitors who are equally skilled, equally aggressive, and equally committed to winning. Physical preparation matters. Engineering matters. Strategy matters.

There’s a phrase I’ve heard hundreds of times over the years: “Let me think about it.” In some cases, it’s justified. But more often, it’s a stalling tactic. A way to avoid risk. A cover for not wanting to be wrong. And in leadership, indecision is a decision. It just tends to be the most expensive one.

Every new year starts with noise. Resolutions. Predictions. Overwhelm disguised as motivation. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in leadership, whether in the boardroom, on the track, or at the Foundation, it’s that starting strong doesn’t mean doing everything. It means doing the right things, on purpose.

There’s a myth in leadership that experience automatically makes you better. But I’ve learned, on the racetrack, in health policy, and in research funding, that experience without adaptability is just a heavier anchor. The world changes. Fast. And if you’re clinging to “what used to work,” you’re not leading. You’re coasting.

There’s a common trap leaders fall into: They assume because they’ve seen something before, they know exactly how to handle it now. I’ve seen this play out in racing. I’ve seen it in healthcare policy meetings. I’ve seen it in boardrooms. And I’ve learned that past experience can mislead you if you treat it like gospel.

Everyone seems to be chasing work-life balance. It’s become one of those phrases people throw around in performance reviews, wellness programs, and leadership retreats. The idea sounds great: work hard, but not too hard. Make time for family, fitness, and fun. Keep everything “in check.” But here’s the problem:

Leadership doesn’t always come with the most years on your resume. In fact, some of the strongest leaders I’ve seen were not the most experienced person in the room. They didn’t know everything. But they knew how to carry themselves, how to make decisions, and how to guide the group without pretending to have all the answers. That’s what confidence in leadership actually looks like. It’s not loud. It’s not about titles or dominance. It’s about presence...

Leadership isn’t just about making decisions. It’s about how people experience you day after day. You can have the title, the track record, the influence, but if your behavior changes depending on who’s in the room, how stressed you are, or what mood you’re in, your credibility starts to erode. People notice inconsistency. They may not call it out. But they remember it. And in leadership, that quiet loss of trust is costly...

Taking a beat doesn’t make you less decisive. It makes you more deliberate. The pause allows you to check your emotions, gather perspective, and assess the landscape before you make a move. When I started racing, I had to rewire this instinct fast...