The Shift and the Second Gear: Reflections on a 60-Day Blur

Is it just me, or did we blink and lose the first two months of 2026?

Next week is Spring Break for my littles, and while I’m packing bags for a working + fun trip to Wyoming and checking schedules, I’m standing in that strange, mid-Quarter 1 space. You know the one—where you’re 2/3 of the way through the first leg of the race, feeling both incredibly proud of the ground you’ve covered and slightly anxious about the mountain still left to climb.

I’ve spent the last eight weeks living out of a suitcase and leaning into the work I love. From the familiar landscapes of Colorado, Montana, and Texas to my very first trek into North Dakota, the road has been a reminder that leadership isn't a destination; it's a discipline. I’ve sat with leaders to deconstruct their personal brands, facilitated strategic planning for grower organizations in the North, and hopped on webinars to talk Project Management for the meat industry. I’ve coached future Rodeo Queens from Wisconsin and I've stood on the stage at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln telling the rodeo team something they didn't necessarily expect to hear:

"Passion is a spark, but it isn’t a fuel. Passion will get you to the gate, but your strengths, values, and grit are what carry you across the finish line."

Working with the ACE Leadership Development program with the Montana Farm Bureau every January is something I LOVVVVVE and look forward to every year.

Life, however, has a way of keeping you grounded while you’re trying to fly. Between being featured as a "thought leader" in Meatingplace—preaching the gospel of being bold, empathic, and doubling down on collaboration—I’ve been doing the "real" work.

My name is on the cover!!!

I’ve scooped more horse poop than I care to admit. I’ve taken sunset rides that felt like a promise of spring, only to have my fingers go numb in a hard freeze in what felt like a few short hours later.

I’ve navigated the "trashfire" that is dating in 2026 (seriously, can we make it fun again?), and I’ve been tested daily by a Corgi puppy who is essentially a cute, face-biting gremlin in a fur coat.

But then, there are the moments that stop your breath.

I watched the third anniversary of my father’s death pass by. On that day, as I headed out to feed the horses, I got caught at a train crossing (of course). My dad worked for the railroad for 40 years and every whistle, every crossing, every "wink" from a passing locomotive, is his way of saying he’s still here.

I saw our family legacy of working hard for something you can be proud of continue when I took B to her first FFA contest in Atikinson, NE. Watching her quiz bowl team thrive and head to State was a highlight. Hearing her say it was "one of the best days of my life" because she found "her people" in ag? My heart about burst.

Speaking in Husker country was EPIC!

As I look at the calendar—with keynotes coming up for the Animal Agriculture Alliance Summit and a trip to Hawaii for the American National Cattlewomen—I feel a pull.

I lived in Hawaii for a bit when I was "Little Sarah." I remember the language, the magic, and yes, the sting of my first man-o-war. Taking my kids there feels like a full-circle moment, but it’s more than just a trip.

I can sense a shift on the horizon. I’m proud of the work I’ve done, but I also know that "good enough" is the enemy of "impact." To serve the leaders I coach—the ones who show up every day to be anti-average—I have to find another gear. I need more grit, more discipline, and a deeper level of focus.

"When you sense the wind changing, you don’t just brace for the impact; you adjust your sails to catch the power of it."

I don't quite know what the evolution of my life and business looks like just yet. The image is still a bit blurry. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from 40+ years of train whistles and sunset rides, it’s this: Trust your intuition, follow the joy, and never be afraid to find that next gear.

Quarter 2 is coming. Let’s go find it.