Some years pass quietly. Others arrive like the weather, sweeping in, reshaping the landscape, and leaving you different from who you were. My 10-month journey in Leadership Wyoming was the latter. A season of becoming and remembering. A season of learning that leadership takes many forms and the power of being present with both head and heart.
Leadership Wyoming is built on a simple yet powerful structure: ten months of immersive, place-based learning across communities statewide. Each monthly session focused on a theme: tourism, education, natural resources, economic and cultural diversity, health and community, government, manufacturing, military, and more. Days were full with: site visits, panel discussions, presentations, small-group brainstorming, behind-the-scenes tours, alumni-hosted dinners, and candid conversations that only happen when you’re learning side by side with people who care deeply about this state.
Between sessions, we stayed connected through reflection, reading, listening, watching, and the ongoing work of applying what we learned back home (plus a ‘lotta WhatsApp-ing). It’s a structure that blends statewide exploration with personal growth, and, slowly and steadily, the rhythm reshaped how I saw Wyoming and myself as a community member and leader within it.
When I filled out the application for the class of 2026 (my second time applying – yes, it happens – a lot!), I had a simple goal: to grow as a leader and learn more about the state where I was born and raised. I figured I’d walk away with some new insights, a few professional takeaways, and maybe a couple of new contacts.
But the program had other plans.
On a sunny August morning in Pinedale, I walked into a room full of strangers, nervously sat next to a familiar face, and began sharing bits about myself with people who would eventually know me better than some who’ve known me for years. Somewhere between the first session and the first late‑night huddle, I realized this wasn’t going to be a “check-the-box” experience.
It was going to be a year of stretching, learning, laughing (a lot), sharing some tears, and occasionally wondering how we all got so invested in one another so quickly. It’s an experience so unique that it’s nearly impossible to put into words.
Traveling across the state with my classmates felt like rediscovering Wyoming through a new lens: clearer, broader, and more honest. We crossed mountains and plains, walked quiet main streets, and passed through bustling businesses. We stood in rooms where decisions shape the future. We listened to stories spanning generations.
Wyoming revealed itself not as a single place but as a constellation of communities, each with its own heartbeat, history, and hope. Each place we visited was seen through the eyes of our local classmates, shaped by their connections, and informed by the knowledge of our program leaders and facilitators. And somewhere between the miles traveled and the stories shared; the work shifted inward.
Leadership Wyoming pushed me to take a deeper look at how I communicate and how I interpret the space and the people around me, a shift that has become foundational to the way I try to lead at LŪM and elsewhere. More importantly, it has shown me how it affects those around me and shapes the culture we’re building.
As a business owner, I gained greater confidence in the services we provide, the processes we follow, and the experience we deliver, and I began to see more clearly the value and impact of our work. That clarity has helped me show up with a steadier voice and a stronger sense of purpose, which, I hope, helps my team step into their own confidence, too.
This year broadened my understanding of Wyoming, deepened my relationships, made room for others, and strengthened my sense of purpose, both personally and professionally. It reminded me that leadership is a practice, not a position, and that the best leaders remain curious, humble, and connected. The experience left me motivated to do and be more and to become the best version of myself.
While the structure shaped the journey, it was the places and the people who left the deepest imprint. Each visit and each interaction told a different story and left an impact in its own way.
It’s nearly impossible to summarize each location and experience, especially for someone who hasn’t lived them, but if I had to highlight each location, it would go something like this:
Reflecting and sharing life’s timeline. Introductions that felt like stories. Fondue with a pitchfork. A long drive with deep conversation that led to a lifelong friend. Behind‑the‑scenes at Teton National Park. Walking among NOLS horses. Hikes that did not result in death by bear attack. Doors that lock people in, not out.
WYOTECH (yes, Gabel is actually a classmate). UW behind the scenes. A team-building scavenger hunt featuring cartwheels and cheerleading pyramids. Gracious Space. Trap shooting with Game & Fish.
Feeling all the feels. Hogan personality insights and self-reflection. Immersed in the impact of Wyoming Energy. Coal mine and power plant visits. Preg‑testing a Senator’s cows. White lies with ax‑throwing. Truly questionable wigs.
Wild sanctuary horses. Deep history. Rich culture. Wisdom from the Eastern Shoshone and Northern Arapaho on the Wind River Reservation.
Circles of honesty that cracked hearts open and stitched them back together. Healthcare realities. Mental health conversations. Reminders from Tele-Hope and Jae Boots to check on our people. Police ride-alongs that opened perspectives and led to hearing loss.
Hands‑on and up-close Wyoming government (and politics). Nighttime Capitol tours. Rotunda signatures lit by phone flashlights. Notes to senators. Lessons in mental resilience. And the important reminder that Wyoming is, in fact, Wyoming (not Ohio) – vote wisely!
Awakening our industrial spirits. Operating John Bunning Transfer heavy machinery. Descending 1,500 feet into trona mines. Science lessons with Sam. Reflections on the structure of my life’s house.
Volunteerism. King’s Ropes & Saddlery. Eaton’s Dude Ranch history. Reflection, gratitude, and graduation at the base of the Bighorns, as snow fell softly around us while we laughed through tears.
Door‑open Black Hawk flights over the Capitol city. A C‑130 adventure. A dining‑out experience. The discovery that Zofran does not, in fact, work for everyone.
You spend nearly a year building a rhythm – monthly sessions, shared meals, car rides, and deep conversations. Then, suddenly, it’s over.
The final session felt like closing a beloved book you’re not ready to put down. You know the story lives on, even if the pages have stopped turning, but the last chapter is still hard to accept.
I felt gratitude. I felt grief. I felt the quiet certainty that this wasn’t an ending at all—just a shift in the path. Endings matter because they remind us that something was meaningful enough to be missed.
I leave this year with a deeper sense of purpose, a continued commitment to lead with compassion, a belief in the power of community, a love for Wyoming that feels both fierce and tender, and relationships I’ll forever hold close.
Leadership Wyoming asked me to listen deeply, question gently, share openly, and stay curious about the unseen threads that hold this state together. It pushed me to grow personally and professionally, to communicate with greater intention, and to interpret communication with more grace.
Somewhere along the way, the land taught us resilience. The people taught us courage. The industries taught us complexity. And in the middle of it all, I fell even more in love with Wyoming and the people who make it what it is.
Early in the program, a friend shared that moments of happiness are deposits into an endowment of joy. I couldn’t have imagined then how rich this year would become or how many deposits these people would make in my life.
This wasn’t and won’t ever be just a program. It was a turning point, a recalibration, and a widening of the lens.
To Leadership Wyoming, to the communities that welcomed us, and to the people who walked with me and beside me this year, in and outside of the sessions, thank you. You’ve changed me in ways I’m still discovering. I’m indebted and forever holding up your roof.