Redefining Success: Why I Walked Away

May 21, 2025·By Matthew Lowe

For a long time, I believed success as a coach meant sticking it out — staying loyal to a program, grinding through long hours, and sacrificing everything for the job. But eventually, I had to face a deeper truth: staying wasn’t making me a better coach, and it wasn’t making me a better man.

When I left my position as Head Cross Country Coach at Friends University, I felt a complicated mix of relief and grief. I was stepping away from a title I had worked for years to earn — a journey that began as an Assistant Coach at Kentucky Wesleyan, a Volunteer Throws Coach at Saint Martin’s University, and continued through launching the cross country program at Oakland Bay Jr. High. Every step was built on hard work and care, so walking away wasn’t easy.

But as I stepped away from the title, I was stepping toward something even more important.

My wife needed her husband.

My daughters needed their dad.

And truthfully, I needed myself back.

It’s easy to confuse leaving with failure. God knows I’ve wrestled with the guilt, the doubt, the slow work of continuously reshaping my mindset. But I’ve come to understand: walking away from something that no longer aligns with your values isn’t quitting — it’s choosing what matters most. I didn’t leave because I stopped caring. I left because I cared too much to stay in a system that didn’t reflect the kind of coach, husband, and father I truly wanted to be.

After I resigned in March, I spent the week with Sarah and the girls in New Orleans, where we met up with both of our parents. We hadn’t been together since December. Being with them again felt like a tremendous amount of weight was lifted, much like coming home in more ways than one. Sarah knew what I was going through in this unexpected change of our life’s trajectory. She suggested an idea: what if we started our own running club?

At first, I was hesitant. But I kept circling back to it. Sarah had previously started a fitness bootcamp business called Process Performance, and I realized maybe this was the door I didn’t know we were waiting for.

So we brought it back together.

Through Process Performance RC, we’re building something that reflects the life we want to live—a space where I can be both coach and dad, where athletes are developed, not just managed, where coaching is personal and intentional, and where growth is measured by purpose, not just performance.

To anyone standing at the same kind of crossroads — whether in coaching or any other profession — just know: leaving isn’t failure. Sometimes it’s the most courageous thing you’ll ever do. And more often than not, it opens the door to exactly what you were meant to do.