I’m sad.

Not clinically depressed, not hormonally vacant, not bonbons-and-sweatpants sad—just the occasional ‘ugh’ that sneaks up mid-life like the selfie double chin.

You feel it too. I see it in the grocery store, at the airport, walking the dog. It’s in me, it’s in you, and it’s kicking our asses.

I’m also a life-long Army football fan, which is basically a masterclass in resilience. Some seasons are good, some are “character-building.” Right now, it’s the kind of season where you lose your voice by halftime, wonder why we’re running up the middle again, and end the day whispering to the vodka bottle like it’s your therapist. But the team still suits up. Still runs the plays. That’s resilience—even when the scoreboard is sad.

Sadness is like that. It shows up whether you want it to or not. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. But you always have to suit up.

Sadness isn’t weakness—it’s a signal. Psychologists call it being “out of step” – when what I see, hear, think, say, and do aren’t aligned.

Sadness tells us something’s missing. Sometimes it’s a person. Sometimes it’s justice. Sometimes it’s the hope that life will turn out the way we ordered it on Amazon. Sadness is longing in disguise.

I read that music is a coping mechanism for sadness. So I put on a playlist. One song catapulted me back to college, when I was sure I’d be the next Barbara Walters. Instead, I peaked on a news affiliate so irrelevant it actually went out of business.

Sadness – 1, Kathy – 0.

Most of us are terrible at being quiet with our emotions. We treat feelings like urgent emails—“Reply all! NOW!”—instead of letting them marinate. We confuse emotions with commands, as if every pang of sadness requires action: drink it away, shop it away, text it away, rage-post it away.

But emotions aren’t orders. They’re information. Wisdom is the pause button. It says: don’t act yet—figure out what we’re supposed to learn from this.

I read that exercise is a coping mechanism for sadness. Went to yoga. Only spot left was in the front along the wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Downward dog wasn’t a pose – it was a full expose. My ass filled the mirror like it was starring in a one-woman show, every dimple and crease spotlighted through the leggings I borrowed from my 13-year-old—because apparently laundry is optional, but middle-aged despair is not.

Sadness – 1, Kathy – 0

Think of sadness like watching game film after a loss. It’s not fun, but it’s how you see where you got out of step. What went wrong? What needs to change? Sadness is that post-game review—an unglamorous, necessary pause that forces us to look honestly at what matters and where we need to realign. (Tone up, do laundry, be on time, sit in the back.…)

And here’s where the adult part comes in: kids are watching us. If all they see is us blowing up, numbing out, or doom-scrolling, why are we surprised when they mimic the chaos? We act bewildered when kids lash out violently, but let’s be honest—if they’ve never seen us model self-control, what exactly are they supposed to copy? It’s not the gun. It’s not TikTok. It’s not the bully. It’s us. If parents, teachers, politicians, influencers, entertainers, adults can’t sit with emotions without detonating, how can we expect kids to?

I read that church is a coping mechanism for sadness. Wanting my daughter to find a good youth group, I decided to model good behavior and signed up to attend the Presbyterian Ladies of the Pretty Palm Trees luncheon. I apparently got something wrong and found myself at the Presbyterian Wives, Widows and Wasted Years tea.

Sadness – 1, Kathy – 0

At this point, I want to punch the coping-strategy authors in the face. Weirdly, anger makes me feel better.

Sadness – 0. Kathy is finally on the board!

I don’t have the answers. I’m a washed-up middle-aged model who traded her Porsche Macan for a four-cylinder Toyota Highlander and that makes me sad. I’m the daughter of a mother who questions her purpose in life at 90 and that makes me sad. I’m a middle-of-the-road voter who watches the political infighting and that makes me sad. I’m a business owner who acts as a muse for thought leaders and their troubles become my troubles and that makes me sad. But sadness is not something to be ashamed of or to feed bonbons to or act on. It’s an emotion that we have to sit with and learn from. Sadness isn’t the enemy but hopelessness is so check yourself because hopelessness is a whole other ball game that requires real, advanced coaching.

Every coach, athlete and sports fan knows resilience is what gets us back in the game. Resilience is slogging through the fourth quarter when you’re down three touchdowns. Resilience is going to yoga, even if you’re in the front row. Resilience is saying your prayers, going to church, seeking community even when you’d rather be self-soothing with Netflix and Chardonnay. Resilience is continuing to show up for yourself and those around you, no matter the score.

“We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” Romans 5:3–4

Run to Win.