When the Storm Hits

What Running Taught Me About Leading Through Uncertainty

Dark, brooding skies. Rain to come, and 10 miles to run.

It may be summer, but our weekly trail run this weekend had that constant threat of a downpour at any moment. The rain arrived, but hours afterwards. In fact, the humidity meant we were soaked in sweat, not raindrops. We worked hard, and there was cake on the way...

Every Saturday, my running club puts on a trail run, anything from 7 to 16 miles – depending on the time of year, and what people are training for. We run rain, shine, snow, wind, or storm. And we always run together.

I've missed a chunk of these runs this year because of injury, and I'm having to adapt my expectations these days after a knee arthritis diagnosis. But they're always there – for the happy times and the sad.

I remember one dark Saturday, nearly three years ago. I was going through a tough time at work. My role had been "restructured" and all the security, plans, and expectations I had were suddenly up in the air. I was staring at the real possibility that I would be out of work soon, redundancy threatening.

And I was angry. Angry at the perceived unfairness of it all. I was told it wasn't about me – that I was valued, and I had a future. But everything about that experience – from the way it was communicated, to the lack of empathy, to the uncertainty – left me feeling scared about the future.

Here's what I learned when everything felt like it was falling apart: sometimes you need to run towards the storm, not away from it.

Two days after that first discussion, I went out with my group. Running at the back, sunglasses on to hide the tears, shouting "why me?" into the wind. I needed to get outside, I needed the closeness of friends, but I also needed my space. And they gave me both.

They checked in with me, they made sure I had the route, and they just let me run. Across the hills, buffeted by the gusts, running it out of my system.

What happens when you're the leader everyone looks to for answers, but you're the one who needs support? The irony wasn't lost on me – I spent my days helping others navigate uncertainty, yet here I was, completely undone by my own.

But that's the thing about authentic leadership, isn't it? It's not about having all the answers or maintaining perfect composure. Sometimes it's about admitting you're struggling and finding the courage to accept help when it's offered.

I survived. I thrived. And today I am where I'm supposed to be. Those weekend runs are a happier, shared joy these days (injury aside). But we're always there for each other – whatever anyone in the group needs.

As we ran to beat the impending rain on Saturday, I was reminded of that as we ran up that gravel trail. I was at the back again – but this time to take a photo, not to take stock. And there was always cake.

If you're navigating some turbulence at work right now – the kind that leaves you questioning everything you thought you knew about your path – what's your equivalent of that Saturday run? What helps you find your equilibrium when the ground shifts beneath your feet?

We all need our crew. The people who'll run alongside us in the storm and celebrate with cake when the skies clear. I'm lucky to have found mine.

What's yours?