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Shelby On Purpose

My story

Life and Leadership on Purpose

It looked like drive.
It was default.

Shelby sitting barefoot in a cream armchair, smiling and looking away
Headshot of Shelby in a grey blazer

“Corporate” Shelby

For years I was winning at a life I never actually chose.

I left home at 16. I learned early how to handle things, keep moving and do what needed to be done.

That instinct served me well. It carried me through 15 years in the fast-paced, high-stakes world of MedTech, single motherhood, graduate school, and two Ironman finishes.

It also meant I got very good at living on default.

It took more than one moment to change that.

The wake-up calls

Then the wake-up calls came, and none of them were gentle.

Divorce, and becoming a single mom navigating work and school full time.
Unexpectedly losing my dad in a car accident.
A cycling accident while training for an Ironman.
My health collapsing until I ended up on life support multiple times.

Each one forced me to confront something I had been very good at avoiding.

But to understand why those moments changed me,
you have to understand how I learned to live in the first place.

MIDWEST GIRL

Shelby speaking at a podium

MedTech, fifteen years

Before

Born in Arizona.
Raised in Kansas.

Forever a desert lover and a Midwest girl. I played softball, cheered, and never once ran for fun.
I went to college on a softball scholarship until I blew out my knee, then went straight into the medical device industry, where I’ve been ever since.
I’m type A to my core. Give me a process, a plan and a deadline, and I’ll handle it.

Becoming a single mom

There came a point when so much of my life was outside my control.

I was a single mom with a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old, working full-time and studying for a dual master’s degree. COVID had just hit.
If I’m honest, I didn’t feel like I owned my life, and I thought very little of myself.
Shelby kissing her daughter on the first day of pre-K
Shelby with her family on a clifftop by the sea

my girls

The ridiculous decision that gave me my life back

I needed to do something hard that I chose.

Something I could make a commitment to and see through.
At the time, it felt like I needed to prove my life was worth something.

So I made what I still call a ridiculous decision.

I didn’t own a bike.
I didn’t swim.
I couldn’t have run a 12-minute mile.

Within an hour,

I’d signed up for an Ironman.

Shelby cycling on a gravel trail

thousands of miles

I trained thousands of miles without headphones.

All that time with my own thoughts became a way of getting to know myself.
Six weeks before the race, another cyclist’s handlebars hooked mine and I flew over him: concussion, dislocated hip, two days in the hospital. The first person I called was my boss, to ask which trauma surgeon to see.
(I work in orthopedics. It made sense at the time.)

I raced anyway.

It rained most of the day and my chain dropped four times. My kids were there. It was magical.

Shelby with her daughters after the race

magical

I finished that race, and then I did it again.
Two Ironman finishes, and the evidence that I could do hard things.
I had made a commitment to myself and kept it.
I now had the evidence I needed that I could make purposeful decisions and better my life.

Then my body started making decisions for me.

Shelby in a hospital bed with a blood pressure cuff

Hospital days

A hospital-bed selfie

Hospital days

Letting go of the race

I was diagnosed with adrenal insufficiency.

A rare endocrine disease I’ll manage for the rest of my life. My body doesn’t make cortisol, and I take medication every four hours to help it function.
As my health collapsed, I ended up on life support multiple times and had to step away from endurance racing.
Letting go was a grief process. I was letting go of something that had helped me discover what I was capable of, and accepting a body that will never do what it used to.

I still had work, kids and the everyday demands of managing my health. I adapted. I kept going.

I normalized so much of it.

The last wake-up call

The final time I woke up in the ICU, I was intubated, with no idea what had happened.

Black and white photo of Shelby in an ICU bed

the last time

A routine outpatient procedure had turned into shock in the recovery room.

One of my first thoughts:

Where are my kids? Are they safe?

Then:

What meetings do I need to cancel?
Who do I need to email?
Waking up like that and worrying about work made me question what I was giving so much of myself to.

One question wouldn’t leave me alone:

Are the things I say matter actually reflected in my time, energy and actions?

For a lot of my life, the honest answer was not always.

That was the last wake-up call I needed.
From there I took full action to own my entire life.

What that looks like now

I started bringing that question into ordinary decisions.

What deserved my time? Where did I need to be fully present?

I repositioned my career priorities. I stopped attending meetings that didn’t need me. When I work, I want to do good, fulfilling work and give it my full attention. When my girls are in front of me, I want them to have my attention, too.

I stopped splitting myself into Shelby the mom, Shelby at work and Shelby the athlete.
Shelby kissing her daughter on the first day of pre-K

Shelby the mom

Shelby speaking at a podium

Shelby at work

Shelby running an Ironman at night

Shelby the athlete

I’m just me.

Shelby,

on purpose

.

Shelby leaning back with her hands in her hair, smiling
Shelby making pancakes with her girls

pancake mornings

My girls get to see all of it: the work that fulfills me and the mom dancing on the kitchen island while we make pancakes.
I’ve had help learning how to show up this way.
I’ve studied performance psychology. I have my own coach, and we work together to chase my goals, live intentionally, and stay grounded in what matters to me.
I’m learning to notice what is good while I’m still working toward what comes next.

I also keep a note that I read every day:

A handwritten note that reads: Can I do this? crossed out, then: Who do I need to become to do this?

That question still pushes me. I still want to do hard things. I’m more deliberate about which ones I choose and why they matter to me.

Why I’m sharing this with you

I know what it feels like to do everything you’re supposed to do and still feel disconnected from your own life. As I started changing that, I wanted to help other people do the same.

That’s what I’m building with Shelby On Purpose. A place to bring what I’ve lived and learned into conversations, coaching and practical tools that help you live and lead more intentionally.

You don’t have to wait for a wake-up call to start choosing.

You can create your life on purpose, starting today.
Coming out of default happens one decision at a time, over time. Catching the autopilot, naming what’s driving you, and claiming your next step on purpose, again and again.

If you’ve spent years being the person who handles everything, you already have evidence of what you’re capable of. Give yourself room to ask what you want to do with that strength.

I’ve experienced the goodness and benefits from learning to live on purpose.

I want that for you, too.

Shelby

If you recognized yourself somewhere in this story, start small.

Start by looking at what you’re carrying and how much of it deserves your energy. The Mental Load Playbook gives you eight frameworks, one a week, to help you do that.

For support putting those choices into practice, AWAKEN offers 90 days of 1:1 coaching. Book a free coaching session ›
Want to bring this conversation to your team or event? Book me to speak ›

The Mental Load Playbook shown on three tablets