Hard Launch
Twelve flights, nineteen classes, one pop-up studio, and zero sleep.
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September hit like a freight train, and I was only three days into having a new puppy. It was all gas, no brakes. Weeks earlier, we’d announced Jibe’s Charleston expansion — and with it, the pop-up grand opening scheduled for September 30th. Which meant my to-do list wasn’t a list. It was a novella.
I am a big list girl. Always handwritten. Always in a notebook. Something about physically crossing items off delivers the same dopamine hit as a great sprint song. A tangible, ink-based sense of “I did something today besides spiral.”
On the list?
Bikes in Charleston
Finish build-out of the pop-up
Get speakers
A water bottle filler
Put up signage
Promote the opening
Train instructors
Set up the studio apartment
Photo shoot in Charleston
Spinathon in Maine
Build out the Charleston schedule
Branded merch
Finalize business license
Certificate of occupancy
Teach 19 classes in Maine
Hang mirrors
Set up studio for Day 1
Train puppy
Casual.
Owning a business doesn’t ease you into things. It doesn’t wait until your life is tidy, your schedule is clear, or your nervous system is regulated. There is no perfect season. No calm before the storm. Sometimes leadership looks like waking up one morning and realizing everything is happening at once — and if you don’t move, it won’t happen at all.
It felt like starting all over again — raw adrenaline and ambition dragging me across the finish line day after day. That month, I spent 18 days in Maine and 12 in Charleston. Scuppers, who’d had his very first flight just weeks earlier, suddenly racked up three more. He was picking up more American miles than some executives.
None of these tasks were small, and every single one came down to the wire. HR helped where he could — and when he showed up, he showed up hard. He drove bikes from Maine to Charleston. Built the podium. Hung mirrors. Mounted speakers. Coordinated with electricians. In the moments where deadlines were violent and failure felt loud, I’d catch that old spark of maybe we’re okay. We were still a good team when it came to projects. He loved a project. Loved the problem-solving. Loved being needed. And I want to say this clearly: he was committed to making the pop-up successful. He was driven. Willing. Capable. He didn’t phone it in — at least not at first.
But as the month wore on, things got… complicated.
