The Guide on the Side

Resisting the urge to "fix it all" creates stronger kids, teams, and organizations

We arrived at the venue right on time and it was already packed. The host school had several people in the parking lot directing cars to open spaces. This meet was apparently an all-day affair, as races were being conducted as we drove up to the venue.

My son is a freshman in high school and a first-time cross country runner. Cross country is a new experience for our entire family. No one has ever participated in the sport, and we’re all on the learning curve this fall.

The scene was wild, just as it had been at the previous two races his team attended. In some ways, it is a lot like the swim meets I am used to: dozens of teams, all set up in their own areas around the venue; hundreds of spectators, many of whom are wearing the colors and names of their child’s school on their clothing; and a lot of waiting around for your child’s event to take place.

My wife, daughter, and I passed the time before his race in different ways. There were food trucks, a DJ, and opportunities to meet and chat with other parents from his team. We even snuck in a couple rounds of tag.

The races were unique, even for a cross country meet. It was a nighttime meet, and the entire course had to be illuminated for runner safety. There were several areas where they passed through makeshift cattle shoots with spectators and coaches lining both sides of the path. I loved the volume and the spirit we experienced here, directed at all of the competitors equally.

My son was really happy with his results. This event was contested as a four-kilometer race, rather than the normal five-kilometer distance, and he was encouraged that his average mile split was his fastest this season.

While my wife, daughter, and I walked to the car, he more or less floated there. As he opened his door, he said, to no one in particular, “I think I can break 20 minutes in the 5K this season.”

At the start of the season, he was pretty reluctant to give cross country a try. He isn’t and has never been a runner and isn’t someone who likes to endure pain.

His school requires every student to participate in at least one sport per school year, and my wife and I encouraged him to try cross country. Our thinking was that a fall sport would allow him time to meet other students at the new school before the first day. We also know that he is a kid who loves being outdoors and thrives with rhythmic activities.

Solo, pre-season training was not giving him much confidence. But it only took one full-team practice for him to start to see things differently. Thanks to the connections he made and the friendships that began to develop, he had a core group of friends by the first day of school.

Fast-forward to today and he’s at the point of making plans to train over the winter, run spring track, and be a part of the cross country team again next year.

As parents, we can’t make decisions for our children. But we can be there to give them a push toward something when necessary.

Hearing him state that he has a goal of breaking 20 minutes in the 5K triggered something in me: the coach, ready to motivate him to get there.

I wanted to start talking to him, right then and there, about nutrition, hydration, sleep, stride length, and strength training – anything else I could think of that would positively impact his path toward achieving this goal.

Thankfully, I stopped myself before a single sound escaped my mouth.

After a few seconds, I just said, “That would be awesome.”

My role is to be his Dad, not his coach. He may come to me with questions about certain things, and I will happily answer them to the best of my knowledge.

What he needs from me most of all is love and support, not coaching.

As a swim coach, I often saw the negative side of sports parenting when the athlete’s goals and achievements become the identity of the parent.

They become the snowplow parent, paving the way they think will lead their child to achieving greatness, whatever that may be.

I’ve seen the same thing happen in business with a leader who goes into snowplow mode. They believe they are eliminating the obstacles to success by removing roadblocks and over-managing the team. However, by doing so, it deprives individuals of the opportunity to experience failure, learn from failure, and come back from failure.

The best leaders I’ve known are not always leading the charge out front for the rest of the team. They are off to the side, providing direction and input at the appropriate moment, and maintaining the pace.

This is the key difference between management and leadership: a manager directs while a true leader inspires.

When someone stumbles, a strong leader won’t immediately rush over to fix the problem; instead they allow that person the space to pick themselves back up and learn the right stride on their own, with some guidance, as necessary.

I stopped coaching swimming full-time because I needed to focus on my business during a desperate season. I also wanted to spend more time with my family. Of the three responsibilities I had – running the business, coaching, and family – coaching was the area where I was replaceable.

But, in my mind, I was exhausted from the expectations I had heaped on myself, which were directly tied to the results the athletes would achieve. I was directly tying my value as a coach, and as a person, to the performance and execution of teenage athletes.

I was failing to grasp that leadership is about the journey, not the destination. The true reflection of a leader isn’t the outcome but the amount of space they provide for others to own and grow through the process.

Great leaders understand that they do not need to jump in at every sign of adversity. There are times when it is necessary, but those truly are few and far between. More often than not, the stumble is just as valuable as the success.

The true reflection of a leader should not be measured in the final outcomes but in the growth and advancement of the team and its members. It’s measured in how much space the leader creates for others to struggle, adapt, and ultimately own the result themselves. That’s the paradox most parents and executives miss: if you’re always out front clearing the path, you’re not leading; you’re robbing people of the opportunity to grow. Real leadership is guiding from the side, and it’s the only way those you lead ever learn to run their own race.