Two worlds. One person. On purpose.

I've spent my career inside organizational change — the transformations everyone announces with enthusiasm and lives through with gritted teeth. Mergers. System replacements. Restructures. The projects where the slide deck says journey and the hallway says something unprintable.

Somewhere along the way I became one of the most credentialed people in my field — Master-level accreditation from the Change Management Institute, ACMP's Master Change Management Professional designation, CCMP, APMG, Prosci, Barrett Values, Lean Change. I collected those the way some people collect stamps, except each one made me slightly harder to argue with in a steering committee.

But the credential that actually matters isn't on any certificate: I've sat with thousands of people on the receiving end of change. And they taught me the thing every framework dances around — people don't move because the plan is good. People move when they feel seen.

Kindness in Motion started with that insight and a piece of metal. A challenge coin — an old military tradition of belonging — turned into something new: an object you give away when you catch someone doing something that matters. Carry it, recognize someone, pass it on. The rules fit on a coaster. That's the point.

I wanted recognition that couldn't be automated, gamified or turned into a quarterly metric. Metal in a pocket. A sentence said out loud. A story that keeps moving after everyone's gone back to their inbox.

And then there's the other half of my life — the half with engine noise in it. A Velocity Yellow Corvette. Car shows and road trips and a community called Boost & Buns. International road rallies where I navigate for thousands of miles as co-pilot with Team Fourteen Racing — which, it turns out, is the world's most effective workshop on trust, communication and staying calm while moving very fast.

The automotive world also handed me a mission I didn't expect: being visible proof for women and girls that car culture has room for them — behind the wheel, under the hood, and holding the route book.

People sometimes ask which one is the real me — the strategist or the co-pilot. Wrong question. Change, recognition, rallies: it's all the same discipline. Trust the person next to you, read the road ahead, and keep moving.