An October Reflection on Resilience, Trust, and the Strength We Find in One Another
In 2025, I participated in the American Cancer Society’s Bridge to Beach Bike-a-Thon, a 66-mile ride through New Jersey. I rode alongside four remarkable women, each a cancer survivor. I was the only member of our group who had not personally experienced cancer.
The day presented its challenges. Cooler temperatures, persistent winds, and the inevitable fatigue of spending hours on a bicycle tested each of us. But we were a team. We rode at the pace of our slowest rider, adjusting when someone struggled, offering encouragement, and trusting one another to get through the difficult stretches.
I thought often of the familiar proverb: If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.
These women had already faced challenges far greater than anything the road could present. Each had confronted cancer, endured uncertainty, and found her way forward. One of the women was my partner, Tracy, who I have been with through every part of her cancer journey. Her strength and the others’ strength was not measured by speed or physical ability, but by their determination to take on the challenge and support one another along the way. I was humbled by their courage and strengthened by their example.
When Endurance Is Not Enough
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, a time to recognize survivors, honor those we have lost, and acknowledge the families whose lives have been forever changed by cancer.
For me, this reflection extends beyond one particular form of cancer. It is deeply personal.
My older brother, Warren Sweet, died in 2023 after battling cancer. His wife, Koreen Simone Reed, died in 2026, also after a fierce fight against the disease. They fought with determination and courage. And despite their strength, we lost them both.
There is a particular humility that comes from witnessing someone fight so fiercely for life, only to discover that courage and determination cannot always change the outcome. Cancer does not measure the strength of a person’s will, and survival is not a reward for fighting hard enough. Some of the strongest people I have known did not survive.
Warren and Koreen left behind a son who must now navigate life without either parent. My remaining brother, my sister, and I have taken his hand, determined to help him stand tall in the face of unimaginable loss. We cannot remove his grief, but we can surround him with love and remind him that he does not have to find his way forward alone.
As a family, we are learning that endurance sometimes means carrying one another until we are strong enough to walk on our own.
Transitions, Trust, and What Comes Next
Life presents transitions we never anticipated and, sometimes, would never have chosen. They challenge our confidence, disrupt our sense of direction, and leave us questioning what we thought we knew about the road ahead.
As a leader, I have spent much of my career helping institutions navigate change, encouraging colleagues to embrace possibilities, take thoughtful risks, and remain committed to a shared purpose. Those convictions become more personal when we are the ones standing at the intersection, uncertain about which direction to take.
I think back to those 66 miles and the women who rode beside me. We could not change the weather or make the miles disappear. We could adjust our pace, encourage one another, and trust that together we could manage the distance ahead.
Their example reminds me that strength does not always look like independence. Sometimes, it is the willingness to accept support, trust others, and recognize that we are not meant to navigate every difficult passage alone.
There are battles we win and battles we lose. There are disappointments that sting, opportunities that pass us by, and losses that fundamentally alter our lives. I do not place these experiences on equal footing. A professional setback cannot compare with losing people we love. But witnessing the courage of those who have confronted life-threatening illness has given me a different perspective on the challenges I encounter.
I cannot always control the outcome of a difficult situation. What I can control, at least in part, is how I respond. I can remain open to possibility, act with integrity, and approach the next chapter with determination and purpose. That does not mean denying disappointment or grief. Grace, I am learning, is not the absence of those emotions, but the ability to acknowledge them without allowing them to define everything that follows.
There is a story in what happens to us. But there is also a story in what we choose to do next.
As I reflect this October, I think of those four extraordinary women, of Warren and Koreen, and of the people whose courage I have been privileged to witness. Their lives remind me to remain determined without becoming hardened, to accept help without surrendering strength, and to meet uncertainty with humility and grace.
Going far is not always about reaching the destination we originally imagined. Sometimes, it is about finding the courage to take the next step, trusting those who walk beside us, and remaining open to the possibilities that still lie ahead. I owe that much to the people I have loved and lost, to those who continue to inspire me, and to myself.
Because when life changes the course, what we do next becomes part of the story we leave behind.