Beyond the Appearance of Doing It All

As spring progresses, the new year’s energy has settled into the steady rhythm of day-to-day work. In cancer care, that rhythm remains anything but slow. Our field continues to advance at a breathtaking pace, with innovations that expand what is possible for our patients while introducing layers of complexity that can be inspiring and demanding. Keeping up requires not only expertise but humility, curiosity, and a willingness to evolve alongside the science.

From the outside, it can look like I do a great deal professionally and personally: the conferences, the publications, the leadership roles, the family commitments. Although that perception is understandable, the reality is far more nuanced. I do not “do it all.” What often go unseen are the trade-offs, the prioritization, the moments of recalibration, and the intentional choices that shape how time and energy are spent.

At the core of those choices is a commitment to realism. I set honest expectations for myself and allow room for mistakes, reflection, and growth. I seek input and feedback from colleagues, recognizing that our best work happens when we learn together. Approaching each question with curiosity, rather than certainty, has become essential in a field defined by rapid change.

One practice that frequently helps anchor me is my early-morning workout routine. On most days, that 5 am hour provides structure, clarity, and emotional steadiness before the day unfolds. It is often where my best thinking happens. But I have also learned to extend myself grace when that routine doesn’t happen—especially on mornings when getting out of bed feels nearly impossible. Some days, choosing extra sleep is the healthiest decision I can make.

I apply the same honesty to how I define productivity. There are days marked by momentum and focus, and others when rest is the most productive option. I no longer equate effectiveness with constant output. Sustainability requires effort and recovery.

There are moments when the pace feels exhausting. The demands of the work, the responsibility that accompanies leadership, and the relentless evolution of our field can weigh heavily. In those moments, I remind myself what a privilege it is to be doing this work, to have a career I once only imagined, and to support others as they work toward their own goals. That perspective shifts fatigue into purpose.

Work-life integration remains a deliberate priority. I strive to be present not only for soccer and volleyball games, orchestra performances, and debate tournaments, but also for the quieter rituals, especially family dinners. These everyday moments are where my children are becoming who they will be, and being present for that growth matters deeply to me.

I have also come to value the small joys that steady me: a warm cup of coffee on a winter morning, a short walk between meetings, a few minutes of quiet before the next task. These moments of pause often provide the clarity needed to move forward with intention.

I also find myself thinking about the readers of this journal, colleagues navigating their own demanding roles and ambitions. My hope is that each of us continues to pursue the work that excites, challenges, and gives us a sense of purpose. At the same time, I hope we allow ourselves the kindness to move at a sustainable pace, to set boundaries when needed, and to be honest about our capacity. Curiosity and purpose can coexist with rest and reflection; in fact, they often depend on it.

As the months go by, I return to a guiding principle that has served me well: take the work seriously, but never myself. It keeps me grounded, curious, and open. In a field defined by rapid innovation and increasing complexity, curiosity keeps us learning, while intention reminds us why the work matters. My hope for the months ahead is that we each continue to meet innovation with purpose, complexity with collaboration, and ambition with compassion—for others and for ourselves.