Instead of splitting the total number of cookies in half, we take half of each individual cookie.

We don’t break em down the middle.

Instead, I take the edges and he takes the center.

Like this…

WHY would anyone do something so egregiously unhinged you ask??

Because I prefer my desserts to be oxidized and crunchy. He prefers his to be soft and chewy. Why compromise when you can be creative instead?

In order to keep the mass of cookie equal between us, I carefully remove the edges such that their thickness is 29.3% of the radius of the full cookie. It looks like this:

Why are those the percentages that lead to a 50/50 split? That’s an arithmetic challenge for you to figure out 🤓.

Solution at the end of the post!

Ugh fine, it’s a beautiful analogy.

As cheesy as life analogies are… I must surrender to the fact that this is an amazing representation for how we try to split labor in our partnership.

We each try to take on 50% of the burden, but each person’s 50% looks different.

It’s a mix between labor that is:

Emotional, physical, social, mental.

Visible, invisible.

Measurable, unquantifiable.

Masculine, feminine.

Technical, creative.

The burden we take on depends on each person’s individual resources…

Finances.

Community.

Stuff we own.

Family.

Biology.

…And our personal strengths.

Keegan is endlessly patient. I operate with urgency.

Keegan’s family is local. I’ve got a knack for leveraging my community/network.

Keegan is strong. I am fast.

Keegan is open-minded and agile. I’m optimizing at least 28 steps ahead.

And I think this goes for any sort of partnership:

The time axis

Pregnancy was especially reckoning for me and my perception of labor (ha ha).

While I have always wanted to be a mother and was overjoyed for the privilege to conceive, I resented the fact that I was subjected to 100% of the biological burden. And even worse, all its endlessly rippling physical/social/career consequences. I embodied the opposite of what you’d call “pregnancy glow”. I hated every damn aspect of being pregnant.

I will never forget bawling in my car the very first time a stranger told me I had “a cute bump”. I was so frustrated that my identity had gotten usurped by such an obvious physical marker. I’m embarrassed to admit I had a strong feeling of man-envy.

In retrospect, I think the reason why I held so much angst was because I had trouble recognizing my contributions as valuable, because they were invisible and immeasurable. Of all the ways to contribute in a partnership, I’d always preferred to take on the more obvious ones—the ones I could justify to myself and others.

But if there’s one thing defining all things organic (like biology and relationships), it’s that stuff changes with time.

Labor was my final solo-contribution. Keegan has more than stepped up to the plate since Finn came earthside. Not only is he the full-time working parent, he also does more childcare.

All so I can focus on my career pivot and community engagements.

Sometimes it feels selfish.

On paper, maybe it looks like I shirk the most direct parental duties.

But in the end, accepting his contributions is equal to fully accepting his love for me.

And with that, it is fully accepting love for myself during a time where the invisible transformations are immense and immeasurable.

Our cookie is split wiggly-wise not only in physical space, but also in time.

What followed was an uncomfortable examination of how I (and most my peers) defined success. Maybe you, too?

When you think of “success”, what sort of traits come up?

I’d guess: output, speed, competition, independence, assertiveness, etc

Which is associated with all sorts of measureables: dollars, degrees, publications, network size, engagement, volume, time*…

^{*…Semesters (if you’re in school), Years (if you’re in business), Weeks (if you’re in a startup), Days (if you’re in a startup with an investor deadline), Hours (if you’re a marathoner), Seconds (if you’re a sprinter)...}

Taking a step back, these ideas all embody a masculine template.

Even the most “successful” women we know got there by embodying more of these masculine traits.

It’s how we traditionally demanded respect and visibility.

After leaving academia and corporate, I shed that masculine mask. Underneath, I found a deep desire to nurture community, express my creativity, talk about my feelings, and let life take its organic cyclical pace.

I also became a mother.

Mothering, by nature, embodies the feminine template.

It’s filled with immeasurable invisible labor, reliance on a village (being independent is literally the worst thing you can do), and a softness/vulnerability that breaks you open.

A timely message

Deep in the trenches of postpartum, I landed upon a message from a friend I hadn’t spoken to since my Yale years. Jackie and I met almost 10 years ago, while organizing a networking event for the Society of Women Engineers.

Imagine my excitement for her when I saw this:

GET IT, girl!

An invitation to speak on the episode discussing Motherhood x STEM careers followed.

If you want to hear the yap

This podcast episode is a conversation between 3 working women, all on differing paths of mothering. Jackie is a DINK. Salay has 3 young children. I was 4-months postpartum.

We chat about the double bind for working women in male-dominated fields: working mothers driven to overperform just to meet baseline expectations, and non-mothers penalized with assumed availability and extra workload in a masculine-centric system.

Listen here!

Spotify

Apple

Check out the other episodes of the She Said It Podcast here!

We nodded at each other in forced defeat: “This has become so toxic. It isn’t going to work”.

Almost 5 years into our relationship, we were planning an engagement and wedding when a web of lies started to unravel. In the end, he had been dishonest about his parents’ knowledge of me because he knew they would reject me as his wife. We tried to resist the truth. It brought out the worst in both of us.

The most painful rejection I’ve ever received came that night, in the form of his mother screaming insults at me through the speakerphone, and him agreeing with her.

The next day, I put my dissertation on pause, moved home with my parents, and spent the next few weeks just trying to keep afloat in the infinite ocean of grief.

It took months for me to feel joy again. It felt like my future was over.

But like all things in life, it passed.

With a broken heart, I crushed my dissertation defense, published two final works of research, and scored three competing job offers before graduation.

Experimenting with rejection in love and work, one at a time

This is a timeline of all my major adult-life rejections (PINK = Love Life, BLUE = Work Life). You can see how much each one hurt and how long it lasted.

I think it’s pretty obvious which bar represents the story I just told 😅. Here’s what happened next.

I spent the rest of my 20s stable in work, but experimenting in love.

Literally.

As a data modeler and research scientist, I treated dating as a personal experiment.

I dated a diverse set of people to hone my own intuition for compatibility. It made me painfully aware of what characteristics worked with my attachment style, communication, and love language—and my own shortcomings.

I went to therapy, got faster at trusting my gut, and more graceful in seeing the goodness in every guy. Even if he wasn’t for me.

Whenever things ended, I felt the sharp pain of heartbreak, and life sucked for a bit. But I always came back with a better understanding of 1) what I needed to work on and 2) what the right partner would feel like.

In the trenches of my first heartbreak, I wrote a “letter to my future husband” that described the latter.

I reopened that letter a few years after meeting Keegan. We were still working through several things, but my gut knew he was the one.

I am so grateful for all the rejections that led to him because he is the best decision I’ve ever made.

Stable in partnership, experimenting in work

With my relationship stable, my compass of self-actualization turned towards work.

(For the record, “stability” does not mean tensions don’t exist. It means there’s enough love and respect underneath them that they don’t scare us.)

I took a huge bet on myself 3 years ago by quitting a stable cushy job. You can read about that leap here.

I felt the pull of my energy towards values that were personally calling to me: community and creativity. I realized I had several buckets of interests: fitness coaching, ultramarathoning, digital design, storytelling, data visualization.

I had no direct experience in any of those buckets. I went for opportunities and got rejected. Many pilates studios passed me up because they didn’t know me well enough (I’d just moved). I poured my creative energy into a data visualization fellowship that took months to reject me. I made it to the final round of multiple competitive job interview processes, without getting the offer. I’ve even applied for nonprofit or volunteer opportunities that passed me up. I’m talking about a 90% rejection rate.

Making a pivot at the midsenior to senior level is difficult. People tend to choose others based on experience, rather than competence or potential.

I’ve always excelled at work, so facing rejections before people even take a chance on me has been tough.

But here’s the thing about rejection

Take a look at the chart again–I’ll paste it here for good measure. I think there’s a clear takeaway:

The biggest things I’ve learned:

Embarrassment is not real. It’s a hypothetical thing about you that someone is hypothetically thinking.

Thank you to Caroline Winkler for this one

When you get a rejection, WELCOME the unsavory feelings. And then it will pass.

Fuck optimism right now. Cry, scream, write, rant to a friend. Meet the hurt with an open heart. The longer you avoid it, the more it festers and the bitterer you’ll get. Eventually you will implode. Ask me how I know.

Overthinking, binary thinking, and harsh judgement is a sign you’re avoiding an emotion

Is it shame? Sadness? Anger? Our rational mind will try to protect us from feeling these emotions. But like above, anything you avoid only becomes louder. You’re shutting out the younger version of yourself who is experiencing these emotions. Hang out with Little You instead.

Joe Hudson is my favorite mindset coach.

Take action when you feel abundance and calm, never when you feel fear

When you feel fear or anxiety, the answer is to slow down. Any action you take when you’re scared will beget more fear.

What’s meant for you will want you just as much as you want it.

The only real win is a Win-Win. Don’t cling to expectations, don’t chase the things that turn away from you. Enjoy the process, let go of the steering wheel, and follow your joy.

Rejection is a necessary and expected part of growth.

It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you, it means you’re inching closer to the right opportunities/person. So treat rejections as assets to collect.

What’s coming almost certainly has to be better than what’s just passed.

I was fresh out of a 5-year relationship, had wanderlusted into temporary roots in Denver, and had just started my first remote corporate job (read: heartbroken, curious, and reinventing myself).

As I navigated the dating scene of crunchy quirky mountaineering hacky-sacking Denver men, I met a statistician moonlighting as an improv teacher. We played silly improv games on our dates. I reveled in his duly philosophical and unserious outlook on life.

That relationship didn’t end up sticking, but my fascination with improv did.

It was so much fun to spew outrageous mindslop, meld it with someone else’s outrageous mindslop, and mutate that sweet sweet slop until something hilarious/deep/interesting emerged.

There’s no room or time for anything to be wrong. The whole point is to silence your inner critic and move so quickly you don’t have time to “think”.

The antidote to social anxiety

I’ve struggled with social anxiety since my teenage years. COVID lock-down and moving away from my university friend hub made things so much worse. Talking to new people felt like an audition, for which if I failed, was a moral judgement of my worthiness.

It was especially hard to confront this anxiety as an extrovert. I truly enjoy being around others over being by myself, which somehow made the struggle even louder.

Improv classes allowed most of that anxiety to melt away…and reveal something I didn’t realize I had: the desire to play.

Even more fundamentally: visceral authenticity.

Why so serious?

I ended up joining two house improv teams until they naturally sunsetted and I moved away from the city.

A few months earlier, I had also left my full-time job.

Since then, I’ve been in a funky place career-wise. While I have freedom and financial security, it has been stressful. Candidly, probably the most stressful period of my life.

The weight of not knowing combined with the responsibility of paving your own path can feel suffocatingly existential, no matter your resources.

After the 46th time of unleashing my angst to my therapist through a curtain of tears, desperately trying to think my way to a solution, she asked me:

LinkedIn as an improv stage

I opened LinkedIn.

There’s so much pedantic thought leadership. So many hustling 996-bros (if you don’t know what this is, congratulations). So many leaders “passionate” about the next revenue-optimizing tool or skill or startup. So many big egos trying to prove their worth through evangelizing AI B2B SaaS. You can feel the desperation for eyeballs.

At first I was trying to match that energy.

It only made me feel more serious and subsequently more stressed.

One day, I decided to make a joke instead.

An energizing conversation about career pivots and values ensued.

I realized that my existential career stress had suffocated what I liked most about myself (and others): the desire to play.

And so, I’ve leaned into a spontaneous irreverent personal brand on the world’s largest professional platform.

I’ll show instead of tell here:

My LinkedIn headline

I’m not a Jack-of-all-trades because I’m a Heather. I can list my skills but let’s be real…you actually just care about whether I can get shit done and communicate well.

From my unintentional hot-takes series

I mean, anything can be a professional update if you connect the dots hard enough?

Being unabashedly myself has allowed me to make some wonderful connections, especially with others who are deep in their ‘maybes’.

I’d describe my personal brand as “intellectual shitposting”.

Ironically, my networking game has skyrocketed since. I’ve chatted with several hiring managers after making intro jokes and then having a sincere but casual chat about my background/aspirations. Most of them had seen my LinkedIn profile before our first conversation, which is actually a relief.

I’ve found that taking my own “mask” off has encouraged them to do the same.

If you’re feeling resentful, intimidated, or jaded from stuffy culture—at the workplace or elsewhere,

Know that more than anything, people just want to be entertained and seen.

I’ll leave you with principles of improv, which serve as a wonderful guidebook:

• Trust your gut; don’t overthink

• Accept yourself exactly as you are

• “Yes, and”

• Delight in the weird; celebrate mistakes

• Exhaust the human experience

(No, but really, isn’t a birthday–or any of its fractional variations–equally a celebration of the party that gave birth?? Get your mom a gift on your birthday.)

New motherhood has been an exercise in appreciating the dichotomy of being human. As I was reflecting on what to share, I realized, in the most Heather fashion, a kitschy chart would do better than words.

Behold…

Here’s some more detail on select data points.

Expectedly pleasant: postpartum running

I started running hill intervals 3 weeks postpartum, and did my first continuous 1-hour run 4 weeks postpartum.

I wouldn’t encourage anyone to chase my timeline. By a mixture of luck, genetics, and fitness, I had a miraculously undestructive birth that left me with nearly zero blood-loss, no stitches, no medication. I’m beyond grateful. Birth was still intense as hell though. I wrote about it here.

Running felt so incredibly freeing.

During pregnancy, I slogged through runs with a 40 lbs weight vest, sky high resting heart rate, increased internal temperature, and loosey goosey joints.

Postpartum, with increased blood volume, reduced weight, and a lower heart rate, you’re biologically doping.

I cried on my first run. I was overcome with so much joy. I’d been waiting for this moment for over 40 weeks. I felt like a little kid with bare feet and a juicebox.

Here are the veggies:

1. Your center of gravity shifts backwards compared to pregnancy and recalibrating the biomechanics feels a bit awkward at first.

2. HEAVY BOOBS wtf. I’ve never needed a specialized sports bra because I’m in the itty bitty titty committee. With milk, you have an extra two pounds of extremely jiggly weight on your chest.

Expectedly unpleasant: postpartum depression

I knew this was something that I would face (for reasons too personal to share). I worked with a psychiatrist and therapist months before to ramp up on medication before birth, and establish a support system.

Nothing can prepare you for the hormonal flood.

Since Finn was born in the dead of winter, the nights were long and started early. As soon as the sun started setting around 4 PM, I felt a flood of sadness. I was rotating shifts with my mom and Keegan. The ones I took solo after sunset were terrible. Aimless and lonely. I wanted to do things that felt stimulating and fun, but nothing did.

It was like I lost the ability to feel joy.

Something that would really help is texting my friends.

Most people are too polite to bother someone who just gave birth. I’ll be honest, it did feel like a burden to respond to messages from those I’m not particularly close to. But for those people in my sacred inner circle, asynchronous connection felt like a gift. It would bring me so much relief, that I would save messages for responding until after sunset. I’d space out my responses so I could feel little blips of hope throughout the night.

Reading that back now, it’s sad.

If someone close to you just gave birth, send them a voice note, ask them about details of their life, tell them a story from your life.

Unexpectedly unpleasant: phone addiction

I knew postpartum would be exhausting. I knew my emotions would be all over the place. I knew I’d feel both lonely and smothered.

I did not expect how intellectually understimulating it’d be.

And with that, I did not expect my phone to be my main source of non-baby dopamine.

Taking care of a newborn is like taking care of an extremely delicate piece of cardboard. It’s not really rewarding because your baby is not really interactive. Even when you’re taking care of baby, you’re bored. When baby is sleeping, you crave stimulation but you’re too tired to get it. And even if you’re surprisingly alert, the motivation to do something for yourself is nonexistent. It’s folding laundry or nothing.

I noticed myself impulsively picking up my phone and cycling through the same 3 applications, spending 30 seconds on each one, ad nauseum. 6 months in, I’m still more addicted to my phone than I’ve ever been. I just downloaded ScreenZen to take control of my dopamine.

Unexpectedly pleasant: bringing family together

No one has a perfect relationship with their parents, or any of their family members, at that.

As soon as Finn came earthside, my immediate family rushed to help. I had no choice but to accept all the help I could get. The selfless motivation to collectively care for a new human is evolutionary. Personal differences are less consequential. Value clashes get filtered through a mutual understanding that it all comes from a place of deep love for the child, not ego–if you’re lucky.

I didn’t realize I had that luck until Finn arrived.

Watching Keegan bond with my mom and dad has been unexpectedly touching. He’s learned some things about their childhood that I never knew. Keegan’s brother Ryan, and his wife Annie, came to visit. They flew all the way from Hawaii just to see Finn for 24 hours. Spending time with equi-generational family members feels especially precious during life transitions. Keegan’s parents drive up from South Bay weekly to feed us, do our laundry, and change Finn’s diapers.

I have a new relationship with my own parents. I’m having trouble putting words to it.

I think, I feel how proud they are of me.

I’ve subconsciously chased their approval my whole life, long after they stopped putting pressure on me…all my achievements on paper, justifying my life choices, reassuring them I’m doing well (even if I’m not). The pride I feel from them now is different from when I graduated Yale or bought a house. It’s this visceral, ego-free, unconditional warmth.

Without words, I know they see my strength. They trust me.

Every year June 5 rolls around, I make contact with the version of myself sitting scared shitless in front of her computer, and tell her that I’m proud of her.

I’m proud of her for jumping off the cliff without a parachute, with semi-blind trust she’d grow wings on the way down.

It wasn’t just about quitting my job, it was about veering off a path I worked hard to pave. It was about taking a bet on myself, and trusting that what was on the other side was better than I could’ve imagined. It was about shedding an identity tied to success and growth, and looking inwards on what was left…and still lovable.

3 years later…

Am I happier? I actually don’t think so.

Am I more fulfilled? Absolutely.

On the surface, it sounds disappointing that I’m not happier, i.e. I don’t feel a higher proportion of positive emotions. But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I think it makes a lot of sense because:

1. People’s happiness levels are capped by how much their nervous system allows them to experience it, not necessarily by their situation. Gay Hendricks calls it the “Upper Limit Problem” in The Big Leap.

2. I am facing parts of myself I’ve been avoiding my whole life. That comes with fear, shame, anger, and grief.

Holding both at once

I’ve gotten in the habit of writing down what I’m feeling on whatever is next to me–usually my notepad or a napkin. It allows me to acknowledge my inner state and helps me appreciate the “both/and”-ness of life. It’s funny, and kind of beautiful, to see the range of what we experience.

These two things were written in my notepad just a few hours apart.

It’s easy for us to linger in our negative thoughts and let the positive ones fly by.

I felt a noticeable shift in my mindset when, instead of trying to “solve” my discomforting thoughts, letting them be loud. I made a deal with myself that I’d need to let my positive thoughts be just as loud too.

There’s something powerful about writing down what you’re experiencing, in real time. You can’t really negotiate with your brain.

Authenticity is the biggest driver of my fulfillment

Here’s what staying authentic means, for me:

1. If I’m interested in something, I lean into it. If I’m not, I don’t force myself just because “I should”.

It would have been easy to tell myself that I was interested in learning more technical skills and keeping up with the new AI tools. I even bought a few courses in data visualization software packages and told myself I’d level up in web-oriented coding. Interactive visualizations are all the rage! Technical skills are higher value!

Yep, they are cool. But guess what? I spent 2 decades hammering into the left side of my brain, and currently, I’m just more naturally curious in learning right-brain things.

I’ll get lost watching videos about autolayout and components in Figma.

I hired a storytelling coach. Love you, Liz!

I notice good (and bad) design everywhere. I’ll screenshot logos, fonts, and layouts I find satisfying. I want to be bffs with all the designers I know 🥺.

I started this blog. Creative and comedic writing has been immensely cathartic for my soul.

2. I shirk corporate professionalism

Listen, I know there’s something to be said about being professional, especially during business or executive meetings. Trust me, that’s how I made the big bucks in my previous life.

But GOD, who actually likes corporate speak, pedantic thought leadership, or AI-written emails? If no one likes it, why do we do it?

I’ve unintentionally started a fun “hot-takes” series on LinkedIn.

Exhibit A: Why I think resumes are stupid

Exhibit B: Why I think AI is super useful but not that interesting to philosophize

Exhibit C: Why I think preserving your unpolished voice beats running it through AI

I know keeping the “mask off” in my “job search^*” means I’m filtering out the vast majority of career opportunities. That’s okay. I hope the right people find me eventually.

^* I dislike the term “job search” for myself, because most my time is not invested in browsing job boards or filling out applications. Rather it’s in building relationships and creating content that will attract the right opportunities to me.

3. I build relationships around my values. Not around my career, education, or geography

First, there is nothing wrong with building strong bonds with your coworkers, classmates, or neighbors. What’s more relevant is the bones that build those bonds.

I’ve found most my now-friends through 1) running, 2) pilates, 3) comedy, 4) mom groups.

Tbh, these communities are more rich and diverse than any workplace or classroom I’ve been in. I’m inspired by each person’s unique path toward these activities, and truly humbled by the selfless camaraderie it’s created.

I launched this blog exactly 1 year ago, on my second quitaversary.

It was never meant to be a business or marketing funnel. I don’t really advertise it or ask people to subscribe (maybe I should? that’s a problem for Future Heather).

So, if you’re here, it’s because you found me organically. Perhaps you’re also navigating a tough pivot or are staring at seemingly closed doors. Let’s eat cookies, tell jokes, and shamelessly write down our feelings on napkins together.

Let’s continue, shall we?

Training to become an instructor

The process to become an “on-schedule” instructor is not easy. As someone who prefers to apply things I’m already good at over learning new things, it was a big shift to adopt a beginner’s mindset. I figured—since I had hundreds of classes under my belt, had taught statistics to grad students, and performed improv comedy—some parts of teaching would come naturally.

Nope.

As soon as I got on the mic, I felt like a drunk cow with fractured knees dancing on ice. It turns out, keeping track of a timer, while cueing movement, while demoing good form, while performing hands-on adjustments, while shouting encouraging phrases, while educating on the targeted muscle groups, is not intuitive. No matter how many times you’ve taken class. I had to harness a level of humility and grace with myself that didn’t come naturally. I still struggle with it.

The training process involves a pre-certification, certification intensive, routine-writing benchmark, transition cueing benchmark, friends & family classes, community classes, and employment interview. I’ll spare you the weeds (but please message me if you’re curious! 🤠)…

…and leave you with this photo from my very first friends & family class.

Being an instructor filled my cup in places I didn’t know were empty. Here are 3 observations.

1. Building and cueing a routine is both algorithmic and artistic

I follow a rough algorithm for my transitions:

REPEAT 2 times {

1. Say the name of the move
2. FOR EACH item IN the follow rank-ordered priority list:

   [  Springload,
      Direction,
      Props,
      Lower body positioning,
      Upper body positioning,
      Movement  ]

        IF (a change needs to happen)
            Cue change
        STOP after 2 transition cues

}

Building a routine is an art. I love finding a seed of inspiration–a move, a prop, a theme, a muscle group focus–and building from there. I always write my routines analog style.

2. Slower is better, slower is harder.

We’re rushing to get things done at work. We’re rushing to finish errands in the downtime. We’re rushing to figure ourselves out and level up. Even at the gym, we’re training to do more reps and get faster times. We avoid failure, or only tolerate it if it’s a necessary part of the process. I’m definitely guilty of it all.

This workout has forced me to embrace the opposite (at least during teaching). You’re targeting slowness, control, and intentionality. Failure is the goal. Two of my favorite sayings to encourage the class:

1. “there are so many things in life we have no control over, but right now you have full control over your body”

2. “If you’re shaking, you’re at the correct effort. Lean the heck into it”.

The goal isn’t speed or power, it’s to develop an awareness of certain muscle groups so you can fatigue them to failure.

3. I am an awkward adult raised by the pilates village

Something special happens when you’re in a room where every single person who walks through the door wants to be there and work hard.

At the studio, we have a culture of verbally welcoming every person that comes in and addressing them by name. I’m not much of a small-talk person, so this felt awkward to me at first. I realized something, though:

Friendly 1-min interactions multiplied hundreds of times over builds a sense of comfort and togetherness. You start to glean microsnippets of each other’s lives outside the studio. Pretty soon, I’m exchanging baby gear with fellow new moms, meeting others for coffee, buying their furniture,…and tutoring the studio owner’s daughter?!

Being a regular anchor in people’s lives also makes you appreciate the cycles that make humans so complex and beautiful.

I’ve had the tender privilege of witnessing people’s personal arcs.

By timing their planks every Tues evening, I’ve seen it all. And they’ve seen me through it all as well.

This community is a big reason why I moved to El Cerrito.

Since you’ve made it to the end…

If you’re one of my students or fellow coaches, this is my love letter to you.

If you’re a friend from another one of my worlds, thank you for reading and being interested in this side of me.

If you’re an internet stranger, wanna meet at a class?

Sign up here. 😁

For a good chunk of my week, you’ll find me writing routines, curating EDM playlists, hyping up a class, perfecting a transition cue, improvising stories/jokes on the mic, and (lovingly) calling out corrections to people’s form.

If you met me in the first 2.5 decades of my life, you might be shocked, so let’s rewind.

Not social. Not fit.

I grew up your typical, studious, obnoxious try-hard nerd. The only things I really cared about until I graduated college were 1) my grades, 2) my research, 3) violin. I became pretty decent at using my brain. I got into a competitive engineering program at Duke, graduated college with high distinction, won several junior research fellowships, started a PhD at Yale, and then was the first in my PhD cohort to defend my dissertation.

I didn’t have my first serious relationship until senior year of college–not for lack of wanting one, but probably because (it appeared, at least) I was dating my problem sets. I was too socially awkward to party. And I definitely had no desire to work out.

This is hard as shit

I started exploring fitness during COVID. Because that’s what going through a breakup, moving to a new city, and working remotely will do to you. I stumbled across a high-intensity machine pilates workout called Lagree, a brand of slow resistance training. I’d never seen anything quite like it. And holy shit it was a HARD workout. If you’ve never heard of this type of training, allow me to orient you:

The philosophy

Fully fatigue your muscles (target failure) by moving really slowly against spring resistance. You know it’s working when the targeted muscle groups start to burn and shake. Because it is a time-under-tension workout, no breaks are cued, and transitions happen in 1-2 seconds.

Some principles

I LOVED it. There was truly nothing like it. Unlike most other group workouts, I could not replicate it on my own. Out of the dozens of workouts I’d explored in that year, this (plus trail running) was the only one that stuck.

A good instructor is worth their weight in blood/sweat/tears

I noticed not only how difficult the workout was, but how difficult it must be to teach. You’re cuing both a body and a machine simultaneously, have no breaks to demonstrate moves, and have to cue the next move while people are still in the current one. Not to mention, you have to keep both the focus and energy high in order for people to effectively follow instructions while they’re dying inside.

I immediately noticed what a difference a skilled, motivating instructor made.

I fantasized about being one of them.

Breaking up with my corporate job and dating pilates studios

I left my full-time job in June 2023. It was one of the most harrowing decisions I’ve ever made. You can read more about it here.

In the messy liminal space of my new untethered life, sparks of inspiration and curiosity broke through the wall of anxiety. What if…I trained to become an instructor? This thought entered my head at an exponentially more frequent rate, until I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I messaged some of my favorite instructors and studio owners about the process. Some didn’t get back to me, one didn’t have a certification that worked with my schedule, one didn’t end up being a good fit…and then…

I’m not religious or spiritual, but I felt like the universe aligned for me here. I met Megan for coffee the next week. Little did I know, she was in the process of creating her own studio and was looking for instructors. She is, to this day, one of my most inspiring mentors.

A few months later, I embarked on a humbling process that helped shape my career values, inspired me to buy a house near the studio, and expanded my life in ways I didn’t expect…

…Stay tuned for Part 2 😀

~~~~~

Update: PART 2 IS POSTED!

As a gift to myself, I’m giving myself the liberty to write unfiltered and unedited about how I feel. I’m not going to think about punchy headlines or editorial storytelling.

On one hand…

Of COURSE I think all mother-figures should be recognized and celebrated.

If receiving gifts, organizing parties, or social media shout outs accomplishes that in any way, keep the tradition going. There is no reason to reject any sort of appreciation and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want freshly baked cookies.

I’ve felt so seen by my community of mothers, runners, pilateers, scientists, designers, improv artists, and family. I think the comma button on my keyboard almost broke from typing that sentence. I feel unbelievably fortunate.

On the other hand…

The intimate, surface-level celebrations emphasize a deeper resentment I’ve been reckoning with.

I can’t help but feel slighted by the systems that penalize motherhood. The fact that parental leave is treated like a corporate benefit, and not a fundamental federally-supported right. That the only work valued economically is the kind that can be measured by output and rakes in dollars. The fact that the male template of success (not necessarily male, but masculine-trait-encoded) is the one that feels more respectable. Fight me all you want, but how many people aspire to be CEOs versus being a parent? If you need hard evidence, just look at ‘the algorithm’ for your answer.

Parenthood is treated like an inconvenience in the workplace because, let’s be real, it IS an inconvenience to measurable productivity. It DOES make companies lose money, at least short term. Even the most “successful” working mothers demand respect by leaning into traditionally masculine markers of success, not by leaning into caretaking or softness. There is very little incentive to take on the sacrifice of childbearing and childrearing because, it is actively penalized by our corporate, government, and cultural systems.

It’s not supposed to be like this

It wasn’t always like this. In hunter-gatherer society motherhood was sacred. Creating life was the single most important pillar of society. Systems organized around protecting and honoring mothers. Every day was “Mothers Day” in this sense.

Before our society made a shift towards competition and individuality, community and collective care were at the forefront. Masculine and feminine work were equitably shared and respected by the village. There was no “office.” Care happened while resource-gathering, and resource-gathering happened while caring. I’ve learned a lot about this evolutionary mismatch through Elena Bridgers, an absolute powerhouse.

For better or worse, modern society has been structured around what rich men feel is important. Just look at the boom of AI. Perhaps, if more men take on what is traditionally “feminine” work (childcare, community-building, emotional burden), then that type of work becomes more respectable and more valued. And what is respected and valued will be reflected in systems, policies, and culture.

I don’t have an answer. I’m just a new mother and recovering overachiever.

To every mom who’s felt the same epiphany I did, I see you and I respect you deeply.

To every guy who’s felt this epiphany too, can you use your power to help dismantle the broliarchy? (Less than half-kidding). Special shout-out to my husband who’s listened to this ad nauseam, and has not only affirmed me with his words, but also his actions.

P.S. Yapped about all this and more on the She Said It podcast, launching this summer!

I made this radical change ~3 years ago and haven’t looked back. This means I never know my pace*, I never know my distance, and I don’t use Strava. I don’t even use a watch when I race!

Edgy, right? You might be surprised because I’m such a data- and goal-oriented person.

But ironically, I’ve hit every single one of my PR’s after I stopped monitoring my numbers and transitioned to 100% effort-based running. Multiple ultramarathon podiums, a 12-min sub-BQ on my debut road marathon, and a very respectable 14-mile mountain race performance while 8 months pregnant. I share that not to fluff my ego, but to encourage others to relieve (or at least loosen) the pressure of numbers. You can make progress without constantly measuring it.**

This piece shares my philosophy on process-oriented, effort-based running. And a visual guide on how to do it. If you’re just interested in the guide, skip to the last section.

* Exception: Running with a pace group at track. I’m a blind sheep following my leaders 😝

** Literally. The laws of physics support this.

I’m a data person and that was the problem

Society rewards critical thinking, rigorous analysis, and airtight logic. We’re goal-oriented and progress-obsessed. We love to measure things, see the good things trend up, and the bad things trend down.

I don’t have much natural athletic talent. I was dead last in the mile-run in high school. I had to walk most of it. When my gym teacher berated me for “not trying”, the shame nearly ate me alive. I focused on my grades and violin instead.

I “picked up” running in 2021, when I joined a women’s trail running group after just moving to Denver. I was looking for a way to make friends and get outside more. I used a running watch just like everyone else because it seemed like a rite of passage. A few years in, I found myself measuring the quality of my runs by my pace and distance…and I was totally plateauing.

Every time I opened Strava, my eyeballs naturally locked onto the progress of my peers. It was exhausting to feel like I was always behind. And I was frustrated that I couldn’t seem to overcome this comparison shame spiral. I ditched my watch, cold turkey, as an experiment. After approximately 1 week of numbers withdrawal, the freedom outweighed the FOMO.

What happened when I ditched my watch

I had 4 epiphanies:

1. I had been running my “easy” runs too hard. I wasn’t actually relaxed because I was embarrassed about my pace.

2. My “hard” runs hadn’t been hard or short enough for me to make progress. Probably because I didn’t have enough left in the tank from supposedly “easy” runs.

3. When I didn’t know my pace, I never felt bad after my runs. And therefore, it was easier to be consistent.

4. Though I was running more consistently, I rarely seemed to get injured. I was hyper-attuned to my own body and effort.

And that lead me towards my current philosophy on running:

How to run by feel and get faster in the process

Here’s why effort-based running ironically helps you hit goals:

Start with finding a hill

Hills are the secret sauce. Here’s why:

1. You’re forced to run by effort. Paces go out the window when you’ve got random climbs and descents.

2. You get to challenge your muscles more than flat running, which gives you more well-rounded fitness

3. Hills usually come with great views, which makes for a more rewarding experience

Make 80% of your runs Easy, 20% of them Fartlek

The Easy run

This is the foundation of your cardiovascular fitness.

Your goal here is to SLOW DOWN enough that you can call a friend on the phone, send voice notes, sing, whatever. If you’re new to running, try walk/jog intervals. The goal isn’t necessarily to “run.” It’s to tune into the effort level where you’re working just enough to break a light sweat, but not enough to lose your breath.

You’re likely walking the uphills. The steeper the uphill, the slower you’ll go. Remember, you should be able to maintain a steady conversational effort.

The Fartlek run

This is where you practice speed.

Fartlek means “speed play” in Swedish. It should feel fun. You should feel out-of-breath in short(ish) bursts. You shouldn’t feel like you have much left in the tank afterwards.

Hills make things beautifully simple: just try to run the entire route at the same pace.

You’ll be working hard on the uphills and recovering on the downhills. Your time spent at each effort level is built in by nature. Some intervals will be short and hard, some will be longer and hard, some will be long and easy, some will be moderate and moderate.

Why this works

To get faster, you need to build a strong aerobic base and occasionally stress your anaerobic ceiling. I made a visual analogy explainer here.

Easy runs build your aerobic base. Fartleks train your anaerobic ceiling via varied short speed intervals. Doing runs on a hill simplifies things: you either keep constant effort (Easy) or constant pace (Fartlek).

One last thing

Confession: I’ve been sitting on this piece of writing for a while, self-conscious on how it comes off. Because truly, I’m not here to judge anyone who loves their watch. I’m also not an elite athlete or seasoned coach. I’m simply a data-driven non-athletic person who ironically found both happiness and success in the sport by removing the data.

I want every intimidated new runner to know: running can be easy.

I want every burnt-out runner to know: you can still make progress without making it a constant performance review.

If you’re on mobile and can’t be bothered to zoom in (no judgement 😇), this shows every feed in my newborn’s first month. You’ll notice:

1. There are a crap ton of feeds. He eats around the clock, every 2-3 hours on average.

2. There is no circadian rhythm. It looks like a random simulator made this data.

3. At least half the feeds occur at night. Cold, dark, lonely.

This visual (unintentionally) made a sociopolitical statement.

Some reactions from my professional* network:

“more than a full time job -- an around the clock job! look at those dots!”

“And people wonder why women are exhausted or don’t have time for exercise or cleaning the apartment! WOW! This is powerful!”

“I feel that in my bones… People who think of maternity leave as a vacation really have no clue.”

“As someone with their first arriving in late March, it’s both fascinating and a little terrifying to see the volume laid out like this.”

“Just seeing that data brings back memories (and a shiver - it’s quite something to know you can’t get more than maybe 2h sleep at a stretch).”

“The visual says everything.”

* “professional” might be a stretch. My LinkedIn persona is, for better or worse, my unabashed self 🤡

Almost 80% of the people who’ve engaged with the infographic are female, which is even more dramatic when you consider my network is male-dominant (go figure: tech, academia, and STEM). Those who have never raised a newborn were duly humbled and fascinated. Fellow mothers were duly nostalgic and re-empowered.

I’m certainly not an “influencer”, nor do I create content as a job. But, I’m genuinely honored to have uplifted the voices of working mothers on a platform contaminated with thought-leadership platitudes and AI capitalism.

Why the data resonated

Even if you use data to ‘drive stakeholder decision-making’, if I’ve learned one thing from business development, it’s that decision-making is primarily emotional.

It seems that this graphic succeeded in inviting humanism, which feels fitting, given how humanizing motherhood has been.

The truth about how I track data

A colleague from my PhD program messaged me about my data collecting habits. How do I stay so consistent in tracking things?

Truth is, I don’t mean to.

I rarely track data to measure progress, make an end product, or stay disciplined (exceptions: Mario Kart Dashboard, Emotions Dashboard).

Rather, I realize in retrospect that:

1) I’m collecting data organically (like in this case. Logging feeds is imperative to my pumping and nursing schedule!)

or

2) There is data hidden in something weird and obscure (examples: stir-fry generator, bellcurvebaby)

I usually don’t realize the data is there until inspiration hits and I think, “wow, I’d love to make it visually beautiful.”

This concept of connecting the dots backwards and finding something beautiful– a story, a data visual, a lesson— has guided my life the past few years. It’s much scarier than paving a path with a plan, but I trust it’s worth it. My hot take is that following inspiration rather than relying on discipline is what leads to finding the truest version of you.

This is a departure from my usual data, design, and career musings.

It’s a long read. You might be interested if:

• You’re curious what the full sensation of childbirth is like

• You’re hoping to attempt an unmedicated birth

• You’re kind enough to share this space with me as I reflect ❤️

4:43 AM, after 5 hours of primal screaming, my baby was placed in my arms.

My voice raspy, sweat and hair everywhere, vision still partially blacked out. Not sure if that was from opening my eyes for the first time in 5 hours…or from returning from an out-of-body dimension of pain.

I gave birth.

Fully unmedicated and intervention-free. No pain relief, no external devices, no IV.

I felt everything.

Why I chose the harder option

I don’t think there’s any honor in needlessly suffering during childbirth. I've learned from years of ultramarathoning that chasing pain to prove yourself is a losing battle against your ego.

Modern medicine is incredible. You can design your own cocktail from the pain management menu: TENS machine, nitrous oxide, IV opiates, epidural. These options range from surface level distraction (TENS) to fully numbing (epidural at max strength).

All these options have helped women have more easeful births, which, in many situations, lead to better outcomes for themselves and their babies.

I decided to attempt labor without any of it,

1. To experience what my ancestors felt, from curiosity and connection

2. To feel the power of the female body, both in what it can produce and what it can endure

3. To be fully mobile during and immediately after labor

4. To maximize my chances for the fastest recovery

5. Last and certainly least, a lower hospital bill. Insurance is a SCAM y’all.

That said, I was in no way attached to this goal. Most births don’t go according to plan.

An aside, to my fellow mothers:

I recognize it’s a great privilege to not require medical intervention for my or baby’s safety.

If you or someone you love wasn’t so fortunate, it doesn’t diminish your strength, courage, or worthiness.

It’s hard enough being a woman when society is built around male-encoded standards of worth. The least we can do is give ourselves compassion.

After all, women can do pretty much everything men can (except pee standing up…and even that’s negotiable). But no man can do what we do.

The full story

tl;dr the most intense and dramatic shit ever

My labor was fast and furious, lasting under 8 hours (first labors average 24 hrs).

Things escalated quickly

Keegan and I were winding down for bed, watching a mediocre culinary drama. Midway through, I felt a gush of warm fluid.
I thought I’d peed our brand new couch.

Labor started within 30 min. Two hours later, we dashed out the door.

Arriving at the hospital

I’d long thought I’d be self-conscious walking through the hospital lobby while moaning in pain. But once I arrived, I had zero sense of dignity. I was completely inside myself.

I was totally selfish and ignorant of my surroundings. I wasn’t aware of who was in the room, didn’t respond to any questions unless medically necessary, and didn’t reciprocate any of Keegan’s “I love you”’s. Sorry, love. 😔

Laboring

Due to my uniquely active uterus (benign, detected early in pregnancy), I had a maximum of 2 min between surges, with most surges 10-30 sec apart (!!) Instead of waves on the contraction monitor, mine were a maxed-out line. I was literally off the charts.

Every surge was an all-consuming downwards pressure that radiated through every bone of my body. I instinctively vocalized through the surges in a single focused breath.

I hope the room had state-of-the-art soundproofing 😅.

It was the most excruciating thing I’ve ever experienced, but I was never fearful. It helped to embody the same mindset of running an ultra.

When running: Focus on the next step and getting to the next aid station, not the finish line

During labor: Focus on the next second and enduring the current contraction, not delivery

When running: Stay in tune with my body, not the numbers on a watch (I don’t use a watch for this reason!)

During labor: Stay in tune with my body, not the graphs on the monitor

When running: “Racing is a privilege and a celebration of what my body can do”

During labor: “Unmedicated labor is a privilege and a celebration of what the female body can do”

Both: Acknowledge I am in the pain cave and it will end eventually

My source of confidence and comfort: Keegan

I can’t give this man enough credit.

He squeezed my hips for counterpressure through every. single. surge. He encouraged me relentlessly. I felt so loved and safe.

I only later realized how taxing it was for Keegan. From his notes:

“I could tell Heather was experiencing really severe pain. She was rightfully in the zone and not very communicative or expressive.”

“My main physical help was in applying counter pressure to the sides of her hips. It REALLY wore me out… my mantra was just ‘shut up and squeeze’.

Seeing what Heather was going through fueled me… I made it my mission to not ever complain about being tired or out of strength. Just reposition and keep going for Heather!”

“We had some precious moments alone to labor… It was really powerful to be at her side through it all.”

Pushing

The best way I can describe this sensation is,

It feels like bearing down to take a rock-hard shit. And the shit is the size of a football. But your butthole is superglued shut. And also internally bruised.

By now, I was so desperate to escape the torture chamber that I stopped listening to my body. I pushed frantically but didn’t feel progress. It was pretty demoralizing until I felt the infamous “ring of fire” and…

My baby shot out like a torpedo.

To the wonderful midwife who caught my baby like a football, you rock.

To the nurses who got soaked by the pressurized stream of fluids, I’m sorry!

The next hour, known as "golden hour", is what people love to photograph and gush over.

I'll summarize it in 1 word: transcendent.

The end result

I escaped labor with no tearing and no blood loss (<150 mL).

I was walking and pain-free immediately after labor.

I was fully healed 2 weeks postpartum.

I feel guilty (even ashamed) typing that out, because I know I’m insanely fortunate. Most women don’t have such easeful postpartum journeys, even though they are no less deserving.

I share my outcome because I want future mothers to know it is possible, even if it’s not the norm. Perhaps, seeing a positive outcome leaves an essence of empowerment and hope, which can exist in tandem with any doubts or fears.

Final takeaway: It takes a village, before the baby is even born

As much as I was the star of the labor show, I’m really not the hero of this story.

The main contributors to my outcome:

1. baby being in a favorable birthing position

2. having an excellent birthing partner

3. endurance training

4. extensive knowledge of birthing physiology and hospital practices

Behind the curtain, respectively:

1. my baby

2. Keegan

3. the communities that make moving my body a joyful and consistent practice

4. my concurrently pregnant friends who shared in the curiosity and preparation of childbirth

Even further behind the curtain is a family that supported my pregnancy and friends that held space for my shifting identity.

If you’re one of those people, thank you. I love you.

And reader, whoever you are, I appreciate your attention. You may now return to short form content.

P.S. if you’re not queasy, check out my ginormous placenta and its final resting resting place 🤓:

I’ve been on the edge of my seat waiting to share this with the world.

Keegan and I beta-launched a product that we built together!

bellcurve.baby

Real talk, I don’t know how to write product marketing copy.

I also have no intention to make this thing go viral or for it to make us rich (but, I mean, I guess I’ll leave that possibility open??)

So here’s my authentic excitement in chaotic stream-of-consciousness form.

TIA for reading on. You a real homie.

What the heck is this bellcuve.baby?

It’s a baby registry replacement.

A silly web game where you donate to guess our baby’s birth date + weight (with probability-based guess prices).

Win fun prizes that pimp out our future kid.

We don’t feel bad cuz he’s currently a parasite sucking all my nutrients and energy, and will soon be a parasite that slurps up all our money + free time. And WE ARE STOKED, WE LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!

I did the product design, price modeling, and copywriting. Keegan did all the backend development.

Can you tell our love language is spending time in a shared Github repo and Figma canvas 🥰🥰🥰?

We even filmed a 2 min skit to explain it.

It’s our acting debut, be nice.

The story

Keegan and I have never been “standard path” people.

We took big risks in our careers and swam upstream to explore, prototype, fail, and keep exploring.

We didn’t have a wedding. I wore a $20 Goodwill dress and we signed papers in a civil ceremony, officiated by a purple-haired volunteer commissioner.

Despite being avid ultradistance runners, we don’t really give a shit about what shoes or gear we wear. (Though we care deeply about the community surrounding the sport).

And when we had the great fortune of starting our family, a traditional baby registry didn’t feel like “us”. We wanted it to be more community-driven and nerdy.

And we wanted a chance to give back in a silly way, once baby arrives.

Will you explore the product and share your thoughts?

Here’s the homepage link again - click around and peruse!

The ability for anyone to create a baby pool is coming.

We think our user base will be data nerds and sports betting fans (...and hyper-practical folks). Isn’t that cute?

Zero expectation for you to chip in, but if you do choose to support us in that way, I promise the prizes are good.

You can pretty easily find the link to Finn’s pool if you click around 😉

To those who’ve already contributed, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. I hope you win lawn-mowing services from Finn.

With big love and gratitude,

Heather

P.S. here’s a creepy video of Finn saying thank you, too. His only way of communication is in utero dancing right now.

Fear, uncertainty, doubt.

These negative emotions are powerful drivers in pushing people toward a particular decision.

I admit, I tried this once on a noncommittal high-ticket client. It didn't feel good. It also didn't work (maybe because I couldn't execute authentically 😅). So I never did it again.

That acronym stuck in my head, though. Not because of its business applications, but because it perfectly captures how I feel toward myself on a near-daily basis. I've renamed it my SUD-monster.

Meeting the morning monster

Ever since I became the master of my own energy and schedule, the SUD-monster greets me every morning. She often melts away if I find my flow and anchor myself into activities that feel joyful, meaningful, or productive.

But many times she sticks around.

Especially on days without measurable progress baked into my calendar. There's a unique loneliness in not feeling part of something between 9-to-5. The dialogue runs on loop: "I'm not productive enough. What if people look down on me? What if I never find stable work? I'm being left behind. I'm not valuable." Yet every action—even resting—feels dreadful.

The urge to panic-apply on job boards is strong 🥲. But I know that's just FUD-driven reaction, guided by my SUD-monster.

So instead of asking "How can I make progress today?", I started asking,

The emotions dashboard experiment

A year ago, I started logging my level of self-trust on a daily basis, in addition to 3 other core emotions.

Why?

I’ve always had big emotions, and have felt them deeply. I’m whatever the opposite of “avoidant” is. Even after years of therapy, medication, and hard work on myself… I still saw my big feelings (and hyperawareness of them) as a fundamental flaw.

I wanted to visualize “progress”, like I did in my Mario Kart experiment.

I also wanted an easy way to share how I was feeling to Keegan.

(And mayyybe impress him with my rookie web development skills, too 🤭)

Automating, simplifying, and optimizing the process

I used Apps Script to automate a nightly survey email arriving between 9-10 PM with a prefilled date, asking me to rate four emotions on a 0-5 intensity scale.

I defined the emotions as:

• Excitement (pleasant, high stimulation)

  • 5 = ecstatic

• Anxiety (unpleasant, high stimulation)

  • 5 = panic attack

• Sadness (unpleasant, low stimulation)

  • 5 = utter hopelessness and despair

• Self-trust

  • 0 = I’m fucking up my future

  • 5 = I don’t need to force anything

I used self-trust in place of a “pleasant, low stimulation” feeling (aka calm), because I thought that was already reflected inversely in the anxiety axis. As a formally-trained modeler, following the principles of parsimony are of utmost importance 🫡

Mathematically, we’d call this exhausting the parameter space with orthogonal variables.

If you’re a management consultant, we’d call this MECE.

Survey responses automatically populate a web-based dashboard I built in Webflow (free plan!). I embedded iframes from the Google Sheets database and wrapped them in a simple UI.

Behold, the live dashboard.

So…not much of a pattern. Just ups and downs without a meaningful trend.

Why the heck am I not making “progress”?!

At first, that's exactly what frustrated me. I wanted the lines trending upward like I was leveling up in a video game. For a while, that was discouraging because I was still thinking of some emotions as 'good' and others as 'bad.'

But then it clicked.

Emotions aren’t moral judgments. They’re not wins or losses.

They’re just information. Neutral signals about what matters to you.

What started as a self-improvement project became a self-acceptance one.

The point wasn’t to feel better. It was to listen better.

And what I saw wasn’t failure. It was my own humanity.

I’ve tried to stop pushing away the SUD-monster entirely. Her presence simply means I care deeply about my path forward, even when I can’t see it clearly.

From dashboard to virtual stage

This dashboard ended up being the emotional centerpiece of a talk I gave on “soft data”, the invisible signals we can track in our lives that shape our experience of joy. You can watch the emotions dashboard section, starting at 18:57.

Timestamps for each of the 2-4 min vignettes are in the description box.

This talk was a humorous and personal storytelling sesh, featuring nerdy delights. It’s the fullest expression of who I am and I’d be honored if you gave it a watch/share!

I promise mostly memes and jokes, with no technical jargon.

Thanks for letting me share this messy, human experiment with you.

Whatever monster shows up at your door tomorrow morning, remember: it's not your enemy, it's information about what matters to you.

To celebrate, I'm yapping about my favorite thing ever 😇. It’s virtual and open to the public if you’d like to peek in.

Most data talks are about driving growth, statistical power, and capital gains. This is not that talk.

This is about the most intimate, truest data set you’ll ever have: YOURSELF.

An N of 1.

I use data not to predict markets or optimize ad spend, but to understand myself: why I suck at Mario Kart, why my emotions deserve their own time series analysis, what freedom looks like in my marriage, or why my bank account makes me cry-laugh. These are low-stakes, high-insight experiments that turn the soft, messy, human spirit into graphs that convey more than words.

The most ironic thing is…

This talk is hosted by Kaplan’s Tableau User Group.

Buuut I have never used Tableau. So I will be a hardcore poser.

Thanks for inviting me regardless, Haim! I met Haim the same way we meet all good people in our lives these days…through the internet. I liked that he was goofy, saw data in the mundane, and had a wiggly career path like me.

Info for joining

Fri, Aug 29 7:30 AM PT/10:30 AM ET

(We’re blocked for a full hour but I cannot possibly talk at folks through a camera for that long. So expect 30 min max, plus intros and questions.)

Google Meet

Video call link: https://meet.google.com/tzb-dkud-asg

Or dial: ‪(US) +1 615-813-0021‬ PIN: ‪503 281 628‬#

More phone numbers: https://tel.meet/tzb-dkud-asg?pin=6154199093230

Bio

Heather Liu Leary, PhD optimizes systems, businesses, visualizations, and data models.

She did her graduate studies at Yale, building and evaluating mathematical models for brain imaging data. Her eclectic career spans leadership in biotech as former Director of Business Development at Applied BioMath, coaching High-Intensity Pilates, and consulting in small business analytics.

She is also a competitive ultramarathon and Mario Kart racer (but has only won prize money in one).

She is passionate about data, design, and relationships.

Regrettably, she has never used Tableau and begs for your nonjudgement.

Thanks for all your support, friends! Here’s to doing things that a bit scary but are the right type of scary.

I’ll catch ya on the blog, the socials, pilates class, the trails, or over a good ol’ phone call. Reach out!

*giving birth means I am no longer free

My internal dialogue went something like:

"What if I hate them? What if I never make back the wasted $6.99? What's Costco's return policy again? Is it worth it?? What does 'worth it' EVEN MEAN?!"

A wiser version of myself cut in:

Heather. Stop spiraling over muffins.

I don't know if they’re worth it. But you have the power to buy them. In fact, you have the power to buy a house. Past Heather worked for this. You earned it.

I legit teared up in the bakery aisle.

What I was really telling myself: I trust my future self enough to handle risk because I’ve been diligent and reliable in the past.

Weeks later, we emptied our life's savings to purchase a house.

When I say emptied, I mean I had $0.33* in my checking account 🫠.

Holy shit. We didn’t go the traditional loan route. Instead we made a minimally-financed offer, a calculated risk balancing logic and gut.

(*Don't panic, finance bros™. I kept a daily-spend buffer and left retirement funds untouched.)

The Risk Mindset

Risk is trusting the perception of long-term gain over the perception of present security. Basically, how much do you trust Future You to deal with consequences?

I grew up with radically conservative money values. I was fearful of spending, hypervigilant of every dollar, and obsessed with saving/investing. I believed that hard work was supposed to lead to safety, not joy.

Two years ago I took my first major risk, quitting a steady, generous paycheck to discover work I loved. I sacrificed my earning potential and ego because Past Heather had worked so. fucking. hard. her whole life to give Present Heather the freedom to take calculated risks.

You know I love a good optimization problem

Engineer Heather™️ has taken over.

Ever heard of the secretary problem? Math says your best shot at the best choice is to reject the first ~37% of options, then take the next one that beats them all.

Copy/paste that to anything involving evaluating multiple options one-at-a-time, including a home search.

But what’s “37%” in terms of a home search? The simplest is time. For our 5-month home search (Jun-Oct, baby due in Dec), that’s a 2-month period without making offers.

But I'm a big fan of using intuition—your gut is often wiser than your brain.

Our "home hunting algorithm" became:

A) Evaluate homes for 2 months, then pick the first home better than any we saw in the eval period.

OR

B) If a home just feels right, make an offer immediately.

Whichever comes first.

The big catch

Now this assumes something major: That we would outbid all other offers.

For The Bay, that means waiving contingencies, bidding high, AND using little to no financing. With high interest rates and nontraditional incomes, our only edge was going mostly or all cash, knowing a winning offer would be 30–50% above list 🫠.

Engineer Heather saw the logic. But Inner Child Heather was not chill. The thought of draining my savings account while I didn’t have a salaried job, in an emotionally insecure chapter of my life, terrified me.

Do it scared

That Costco moment was a pivotal mental shift. I knew I was risking most of my resources, yet still trusted myself to replenish.

Reflecting with our realtor Erin, the win from our "evaluation period" was nailing down nonnegotiables (abundant natural light, turnkey, multiple floors, specific neighborhood), and being able to compromise everything else in rank-order of importance. This gave us our optimal filter size producing 2-4 strong options a week, our sweet spot between too picky and too forgiving.

It took us just 4 weeks to "train" our intuition. On week 5, we found it. We bid hard, countered competitively, and won.

The bigger picture

The details of our home don't really matter. I will say, it’s beautiful. It inspires an appreciation of our existence in this blip of spacetime. We look forward to eating dinner off our Amazon delivery box table every day.

The approach of balancing optimization with intuition applies to way more than money: dating, career shifts, creative projects, big moves.

Ask yourself:

• Have I consistently made thoughtful decisions?

• Have I learned from mistakes and adjusted course?

• Have I built skills, relationships, and resources over time?

If yes, then maybe it's time to trust yourself with bigger bets.

The question isn't whether you should take risks. It's how you employ your gut and brain to guide you to the right ones.

(preview might take a sec to load if you’re viewing inside email)

Other data

95% confidence interval for arrival:

🦃 Thanksgiving – 🎄 Xmas, 2025

‍

Collaborator: Keegan Leary

(contributed 1 cell)

‍

You’ve probably seen the “baby is the size of a [insert food]” thing before.

‍

But, it’s surprisingly hard to do well. Some stuff that picked my brain:

Timing is messy.

Pregnancy is counted from your last period, not from conception. So if you ovulate late (I did), the baby’s actual size might be behind what the apps say. I essentially had to recalibrate the size of baby to a new "fake" gestational age for it to be realistic.

‍

(That’s why the sizing might look “off” if you’re paying close attention.)

‍

Size is about area, not just length.

I picked consistently round-ish objects because our brains interpret volume better when shapes feel consistent. A long string bean might technically be “bigger,” but it doesn’t feel like real growth unless the whole shape scales, too.

Stop-motion is harder than it looks.

• I had to hold my breath between every frame to not breathe on the papers.

• I used tweezers to move the papers. Tiny things move if you blink at them wrong.

• Lighting is a diva. It’s amazing how, where photons do or don’t hit, will ruin the visual flow of frames.

‍

We ended up in Keegan’s studio, blacked out as much natural light as possible, and used his artificial studio lights. Benefits of having a YouTuber husband hehe.

‍

This baby's already an overachiever

I had a whopping 17.1% fetal fraction (96th percentile) at <11 weeks…this lil guy already has endurance-athlete vascular efficiency 😅

‍

Fetal fraction = percent of DNA in my blood that belongs to baby

‍

A baby’s DNA ends up in mom’s bloodstream as their placenta grows and sheds cells.

‍

To the unsung journeys

We're extremely grateful to have a painless fertility & pregnancy journey thus far, but we know not everyone's path looks like ours.

Here's to those navigating complicated journeys, uncertainty, or loss. Your physical and emotional labor often goes unrecognized, and your victories—however they're defined—deserve just as much celebration. Your journey matters, even when it's invisible to others.

‍

‍

Not just what gets you hired, but what makes you feel fulfilled, energized, and authentic.

This question occupies most my work brain as I try to feel out where the heck to go next. Stick around till the end for more about that.

Think about each of your work-related transitions.

What sorts of things pushed you out from the previous chapter? What sorts of things pulled you into your new chapter?

And why?

Then why again? And again.

Keep “why”-ing until it hits so deep you kinda want to cry. 🥲

The pattern I saw.

While at Yale, I watched PhD students commit to research groups.

Some chose primarily based on research topics, others on advisor and research environment.

Years later the pattern became clear:

People with ill-fitting advisor relationships ended up miserable, often resenting the very research topics that once excited them.

But those with advisors who genuinely cared about mentoring and uplifting them ended up loving their research, even starting with zero topic knowledge.

I was lucky enough to be in the latter group.

I was obsessed with my advisor’s boomer humor and love for teaching.

Evan, you’re a legend.

Choosing environment over salary

After I finished my PhD, I got 3 job offers.

• Senior-level algorithm scientist for a health tech company.

• Advanced analytics and strategy manager for a pharma company.

• Business development “scientist” for a modeling & simulation startup.

The last offer was a third as much money as the first. I accepted that one.

Why? Because the manager had a unique belief in me.

He sensed a bright-eyed, sharp-mouthed scientist, and had unwavering confidence “this woman would crush it in BD”.

Mind you, I had z-e-r-o experience in business or sales.

He was right.

I ended up optimizing the heck out of business deals, owning ~25% of the company’s revenue at the time I left. After he retired.

(Here's more on why I quit.)

I still make career decisions based on environment, mentorship, and values…rather than industry or job descriptions.

It basically rules out a traditional job search. 🤷🏻‍♀️

So what am I looking for now?

This pattern is shaping how I'm approaching my next career move.

Instead of browsing job boards,

I'm looking for my next role through conversations with people who get me.

I’m seeking a place where I’m valued not for fitting a mold (e.g. being an expert at a specific software or job title),

But for how I think.

🥹👉👈 Can you help me?

I need the help of my community to connect me to the right people.

I’m looking for a role that thrives on:

• Systems thinking

• Data strategy

• Relationship science

• Creativity and design

  ---

I think like a scientist.
Execute like a businesswoman.
Create like a designer.

Joke like I’m your real friend (not just your work friend).

And I’m fascinated with interpersonal relationships.

Most importantly, I’m looking for a strong mentor as my manager.

If a person or team comes to your mind, I’d love an intro or share.

Click here for a not-resume 😁

Thank you for supporting my doesn’t-make-sense-on-paper, wiggly path. 〰️ 🍭 ✨

Let me know how I can support you. I appreciate the many of you that have reached out, sharing your own identity and career journeys.

I’m here to listen, connect, and uplift you.

(Asian immigrant parents have all now clicked out)

The uphill battle probably means you’re fighting your own values.

Hard work should mostly feel good—like you’re in flow, expanding into an authentic expression of who you are.

If you face something with dread and rely mostly on discipline, something that’s not you is driving the bus. External approval? Ego?

Not necessarily bad, but unsustainable long term.

That's a question my former life/career/improv coach Ahran introduced me to (if you can't tell already, I like being around people who wear many hats 🧙).

She said it every time I felt anxiety, pressure, indecision.

I rolled my eyes at first.

I had built my whole life on pillars of hard work, discipline, and producing unmatched output. And I was celebrated for it. I was proud of it.

You suffer through hard things so you can grow, right? Right?? RIGHT?! 😅

Easeful ≠ Easy

Let’s be clear: doing things with ease, doesn’t mean “easy”.

The first time I experienced hard work that felt easeful was running simulations in grad school at 2 AM, trying to disprove one of my advisor’s arguments.

I got into such a flow state, testing initial conditions and controls. I had my logic eloquently laid out, and produced a beautiful deck of my reasoning 🤌.

(My advisor still ended up being right. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT.)

Can intensity feel easeful?

Coaching high-intensity pilates is intense work.

It’s physically laborious, mentally draining, and emotionally sacrificial. You’re talking continuously for hours, eyes on every limb in class, trying to demonstrate perfect form at every corner of the room.

But I don’t dread it, in fact I can say I truly love it. It feels… easeful?

I love how it’s both algorithmic and creative.

I love improvising jokes on the mic, uplifting each person, and educating them with scientific precision.

But what’s easeful isn’t always obvious…

Last week I went to the Data | Art symposium hosted by the Barabasi Lab and metaLab at Harvard.

It was self-funded and self-initiated aka no school or job was incentivizing me.

(Shout out to the organizers for fully comping my ticket. Shout out to my PhD colleagues Kate & Henry for letting me crash at their Cambridge apartment.)

I immediately felt a wave of stress once I got this message:

I don’t know if you’ve ever had an identity crisis…

But my *whole deal* is that I don’t fit neatly into a box, that I’m quickly evolving, and that constraining myself to a category feels disempowering.

Gun to my head, I’d say:

“I’m an unofficial data scientist who thinks academically, who is obsessed with design and who wants a career focused on relationships and creative communication.”

So what the hell do I respond with??

I felt the stress, the dread, the anxiety swelling.

Candidly, I got so intimidated I considered pulling out of the symposium.

Then I asked myself…what feels easeful?

To me, humor.

Actively not trying to prove I belong.

I sent this message back:

Can you guess what underrepresented identity I was?

I actually ended up verbally introducing myself as “an ultrarunner and pilates trainer”.

Only later would I mention I did a data modeling PhD, had a corporate business career, and then learned design on my own.

I made a handful of genuine connections with people who were also trying to find their place in a world of linear careers.

One was also an avid runner (hi, Pete!)

One had also left her job to explore, while pregnant with her first child (hi, Daria!)

One was a designer who had recently gone back to school to learn data (hi, Jocelyn!)

Ease = Flow

Efforting is a subset of hard work—sometimes necessary, but never the goal.

If you're spending most of your time in that zone, it’s probably time to recalibrate.

Flow is still work. It still takes time and energy.

But it stretches you toward yourself, not away from it.

Plus, now I can tell my son he went to his first academic conference at the age of negative 6 months 😇.

Here’s me at 11:57 PM after typing a going-away email to my team.

(Yes, that’s a tie-dye Bucee’s shirt.)

(Yes, I’m that annoying coworker who writes all her emails after everyone’s asleep. Don’t worry–I schedule send at 7:17 AM so it looks like I’m a morning person)

On paper, my job was perfect.

It paid really well. It was flexible and remote. I was good at it. I worked mayyybe 30 hrs a week (because I was good at it). I got promoted to Director before age 30. I was surrounded by smart people.

In theory, it was everything I’d worked my whole life toward.

All the years grinding in middle school to get into AP classes in high school.

All the years grinding in high school so I could get into a top 10 college.

All the years grinding in college so I could get into an Ivy League PhD program.

All the years doing cutting edge brain imaging and data modeling research so I could leverage my expertise in biotech.

I should have felt grateful. I should have felt proud. I should have recognized my own privilege.

Instead, I felt unseen. Irritated. Depressed. And I couldn’t pinpoint why.

I was angry with myself for feeling this way.

It made no sense to leave. I felt ashamed for wanting to.

It’s not like I had a backup plan. I had no interest in job-hunting. No exciting vacation or self-discovery trip lined up.

But my intuition was louder than the logic.

That thought looped for months. It started as an annoying muffled whisper, grew to baseline chatter, and finally crescendoed into an unbearable scream.

I could chalk it up to misaligned management, the company chasing a fast exit, or my favorite coworker heading out on maternity leave—

Those things pushed me, sure. But what pulled me was harder to explain.

The missing ingredient was intrinsic motivation.

Up until that point, I hadn’t.

I mean, what a freakin’ useless impractical thought experiment, right?!

Money is survival. Our society heralds prestige and status. And it feels good to be accoladed–nothing wrong with that.

But seriously. Think about your answer.

Be brutally honest with yourself (no, I’m sorry, “management consulting” is not it). Chances are, the thing(s) you came up with are driven by play, curiosity, service, or authentic connection.

Those make up “intrinsic motivation”. It’s the opposite of “extrinsic motivation”, which is fueled by reward, validation, and fear.

Most of us are driven by a mix of both, but capitalism skews us towards external motivation.

So… have I figured it out?

Many people are fine with their careers being primarily a means to an end–something you do to secure your life outside work. And that’s valid. But right now, I’m not one of them.

I feel the need to do things that are primarily intrinsically-motivated, even if it means I’m not on an explainable path. Even if I don’t have an impressive answer to “So what do you do?” Even if most of society sees me as less legitimate, and the system isn’t built to reward me.

I’m hoping—trusting—that if I keep leaning into what lights me up, the right people will find me. And that eventually, those things will lead to both economic security and a sense of belonging.

I’m no career coach, life sage, or get-rich-from-your-couch influencer. But if I can encourage anyone feeling lost in their career:

Find your compass before you chart out a map.

If you’re stuck, trust your gut over your brain.

So happy 2-year quitaversary to me.

To the terrified version of me 2 years ago: I’m still terrified. But I’m proud of you. And I trust you.

(And health insurance gets infinitely more confusing. But we’re doing okay.)