Author: Trotzendorff

A tree-lined path in autumn with vibrant orange leaves forming a canopy, a lone person walking in the distance through the mist.

Autumn Is a Masterclass in Transitions: How to Navigate Everyday Shifts at Work

The light tilts, the col­ors deep­en, pave­ments shine after quick show­ers. Autumn moves the city from one state to anoth­er with­out fuss or apol­o­gy. That same cur­rent runs through our work­days: from tiny thresh­olds to big­ger cross­ings it’s all about the art of leav­ing one thing clean­ly and arriv­ing well at the next. These tran­si­tions come in all sizes — from the eye­­lash-thin switch between two tasks that lasts a heart­beat to the long arcs that reshape teams, com­pa­nies, and peo­ple over months, some­times years.

A runner moves through the forest, silhouetted against the light

You Want to Start Running? 10+1 Very Personal Tips for Beginners

A while ago, a friend of mine told me she want­ed to start run­ning – and asked if I had any tips. That got me think­ing: wait, didn’t I write some­thing about that ages ago? And yes, I did. Ten years ago, to be exact. Back then, I had just gone through the ups and downs of learn­ing how to run – the excite­ment, the injuries, the first few kilo­me­ters that felt like marathons. So I wrote down what had helped me. Now that ques­tion from my friend gave me a great excuse to take anoth­er look: How much of it still holds up today? What would I change, know­ing what I know now? Here’s the result: ten very per­son­al tips for begin­ners – tried, test­ed, updat­ed, and trans­lat­ed into English.

Why We Crave Strong Leaders in Crisis — And Why That Might Be a Problem

1. The Pat­tern: Cri­sis Hits, and We Look Up Take a moment and think back to the last time you felt tru­ly uncer­tain — maybe dur­ing a glob­al pan­dem­ic, a major reor­ga­ni­za­tion at work, or a per­son­al cri­sis. Chances are, you found your­self grav­i­tat­ing toward some­one who seemed to have all the answers. A boss. A polit­i­cal fig­ure. A loud voice in a crowd­ed room.

The Pace of Presence

The Pace of Presence

In Octo­ber last year, when my Achilles ten­don had final­ly made its opin­ion known, I found myself in a park in Cologne. I was­n’t run­ning. I was jog­ging, slow­ly, with my eyes cov­ered and one hand light­ly rest­ing on the arm of some­one guid­ing me. We were part of a work­shop for sight­ed run­ning guides—learn­ing how to help blind and visu­al­ly impaired run­ners move safe­ly, con­fi­dent­ly, freely. It was hum­bling. I was there to learn how to guide. But at that moment, I need­ed guid­ance myself.