It's all about time, man.

I’m writing this from hotel room number... honestly, I’ve lost count. What I haven’t lost count of is the number: 79. That’s how many nights I’ve spent in hotels since February, when my son Ford was born.

When I was planning out 2025 in late 2024, penciling in conferences, partner meetings, and customer engagements, 79 nights away didn’t register as significant. It was just work. Just the job. For the last 20 years, I’ve been a “road warrior”; a badge I wore with some pride, actually (along with my Delta Diamond and Hyatt Globalist status’). The travel was just what I’ve always done. To be honest, compared to years past, 79 nights was not that many. Travel is part of the deal. And honestly? I didn’t have much to miss at home.

Then Ford arrived in February.

Here’s what I didn’t know having a kid: time doesn’t just speed up, its value completely changes. A week used to be a reasonable unit of time. Now? Ford learns something new seemingly every other day. He’s discovering his bike. He’s starting to walk - mind you, he skipped crowing entirely. Each of these moments and the “firsts” is happening on a timeline that doesn’t care about my Q3 objectives or my travel schedule.

I missed his first real laugh. I heard about it on a FaceTime call from a hotel in The Netherlands.

The math is brutal when you actually do it. Ford is almost 10 months old as I write this. I’ve been gone for 79 nights. That’s nearly 30% of his entire life so far. Thirty percent of a life I can’t get back, can’t replay, can’t experience in retrospect no matter how many photos and videos get sent my way.

I kept telling myself the travel was for him: building security, creating opportunities, establishing the foundation for his future. And there’s truth in that. But there’s also truth in the fact that he doesn’t need a foundation 20 years from now nearly as much as he needs his dad right now, today, this week.

The partnerships world has taught me a lot about value creation. We talk constantly about mutual value, about understanding what each party needs from a relationship. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to apply that same framework to the most important partnership of my life: the one with my family.

Jenelle hasn’t complained (too loudly). She’s been incredibly supportive, as she always is. But I’ve seen the exhaustion. I’ve seen her handling everything while I’m off “building the ecosystem.” And I’ve started asking myself a hard question: What ecosystem am I actually building? Because the one at home, the one with Ford discovering the world, with my wife being an absolute superhero, with moments that only happen once; that ecosystem needs me too.

So here’s what I’ve realized, sitting in hotel room number whatever-this-is: Time is the only truly finite resource we have. You can make more money. You can rebuild professional relationships. You can even switch careers. But you cannot make more time. You can’t get back the nights you missed, the mornings you weren’t there for, the small moments that seemed insignificant until they were gone.

I don’t have regrets, and I don’t live in the rearview mirror. I’ve done meaningful work this year, work I’m proud of. But its time to recalibrate. I’ve recognized that the metrics I’ve been using to measure success might be missing the most important data points.

Which brings me to the announcement part of this post: I’m taking a sabbatical through the end of the year. Six whole weeks without email or Slack to focus on my family.

Scaled Agile has always been incredibly supportive of work-life balance. I’m fortunate to work for an organization that not only offers PTO but actively encourages people to use it. So I’m taking them up on it. I’ll be stepping back from day-to-day responsibilities, from travel, from the constant motion of the last year.

I’m going to be present. I’m going to watch Ford discover things. I’m going to give Jenelle the support she has more than earned. I’m going to remember what it feels like to not live out of a Hyatt (though, I do love a good Hyatt property.)

After the new year? I’ll be making some different decisions. I don’t have all the answers yet about what that looks like professionally, but I know the questions I’m asking are the right ones.

Here’s the lesson, if you’re looking for one: Prioritize your family. They need you. Not the idea of you, not the paycheck version of you, but actually you. And take your PTO. All of it. The work will be there when you get back. I promise you that. But your kids won’t be the same age. Your partner won’t get those days back. And you won’t get another shot at these specific, irreplaceable moments.

I’ve spent 20 years being really good at showing up for work. Time to be really good at showing up at home.

See you in the new year. I’ll be the well-rested guy who actually knows what his kid’s laugh sounds like in person.