Dancing With Drive: Rethinking Balance in Leadership

I can hardly believe I’m the one writing these words.

If you had known me in high school, you would have seen someone always on the move—literally running across the playground at lunchtime, determined to squeeze every bit of productivity out of every spare moment. I thrived on activity, on intensity, on getting things done. Slowing down wasn’t just unappealing—it felt impossible.

Now, as a leadership coach, and someone who has spent decades navigating both my own fast-paced mind and the responsibility of leading others, I find myself increasingly curious—and at times cautious—about a leadership narrative that seems to be gaining ground. It sounds something like this: slower is better, simplicity is the goal, and “balance” is the hallmark of a healthy leader.

I understand where this thinking comes from. I agree with its intent. Yet it does not fully reflect my lived experience, nor does it reflect the reality of many of the leaders and organisations I work with—particularly those led by people with fast, idea-rich, neurodivergent brains.

Through understanding my own patterns, I have come to see that energy at work matters more than pace alone. Some of us are energised by speed, stimulation, challenge, and variety. When work is engaging and meaningful, focus and momentum follow. When it becomes overly slow, rigid, or repetitive, attention drifts, motivation drops, and purpose begins to blur. This is true for everyone at times, and more pronounced for those whose brains are wired for intensity and novelty.

From an organisational perspective, this is often misread as a performance issue, a discipline problem, or a lack of resilience. In reality, it is frequently a work-design issue. Many leadership systems are built around the assumption of steady, linear energy, even though human energy does not operate that way.

Here is where the tension emerges.

Leadership is not a solo sprint. It is relational. It happens in systems. It affects others.

I have come to think of leadership less like a race and more like a dance—one performed in partnership with the people you lead.

In couple dancing, the leader does not drag their partner across the floor or leave them behind in a burst of momentum. They lead through attunement. Sometimes there is a gentle push, sometimes a soft pull. Too much pressure and the partner resists. Too little, and the connection is lost. When the rhythm is right, the movement feels seamless. To an observer, it looks effortless. To the dancers, it feels alive.

This is what sustainable leadership feels like to me now.

Not slowing down to meet an arbitrary ideal of “balance,” and certainly not abandoning ambition. Instead, it is about learning how to dance with your own drive while remaining deeply attuned to the people and systems around you.

There was a time in my career when I did not understand this. I believed my pace was a strength—and often it was. I could think quickly, adapt rapidly, and move from vision to execution at speed. Over time, though, I began to notice the cost. While I was energised by momentum, others on my team were struggling. Some felt overwhelmed. Others withdrew. What I assumed was positive urgency was creating confusion, stress, and misalignment.

In one role, I was project managing the relocation of two centres—one retail and one wholesale. It was complex, high-pressure work, and many people were looking to me for clarity and direction. For a while, I responded by trying to become someone I wasn’t. I slowed myself down artificially, held back ideas, second-guessed my instincts. The result was not better leadership. I felt boxed in and disconnected—not only from my team, but from myself. Eventually, I left, dissatisfied.

What I needed was not a new identity.

What I needed was rhythm.

I began approaching leadership differently. I started listening—to my body, my nervous system, my energy. I paid attention to when my fast brain was in flow and when it tipped into chaos. Just as importantly, I learned to notice my team’s signals. When they were energised. When they were overloaded. When they were quietly falling behind.

This shift had organisational consequences. Meetings changed. Timelines became clearer. Expectations were made more explicit. Work was paced more intentionally. Psychological safety improved—not because people were pushed less, but because leadership became more responsive.

This was never about finding perfect balance. It was about responsiveness. Awareness. Flexibility.

Leadership, in practice, is movement. Sometimes fast. Sometimes slow. Sometimes holding steady so others can catch up. Sometimes pressing forward because the moment is right. Sustainable leadership requires the ability to read the room, the system, and yourself—and to adjust tempo without losing direction.

This can feel exhausting until you realise it is not a balancing act at all. It is a dynamic process. Not a compromise, but a dance.

So no, I do not believe balance is the answer—at least not as it is often sold to us, as a neat and static state that can be maintained indefinitely. Life is not that tidy. Organisations are not that predictable. Leadership certainly is not that simple.

What I do believe in is sustainability. Not just personal energy sustainability, but relational sustainability. Team sustainability. Organisational sustainability. The kind that keeps creativity alive, reduces burnout, improves retention, and allows people to perform well over time.

That is the dance I am learning now.

Not to dim my drive, but to direct it.

To find a rhythm that fuels both me and the people I lead.

When that rhythm is right, leadership does not feel like a burden.

It feels like movement with meaning.

It feels like joy.

These days, I think a lot about pace—not just in leadership, but in life.

Recently, I went hiking. When I looked back at a photo from that day, I was struck by how closely it mirrored what I have been learning. Hiking is not about sprinting to the summit. It is about finding a pace you can sustain across changing terrain. Push too hard too early and you burn out. Stop too often and you lose momentum. The goal is steady, intentional movement—still purposeful, still driven, but grounded in awareness.

Leadership is no different.

You cannot push at full tilt indefinitely, and you do not need to. What matters is knowing your pace, and adjusting it as conditions change. That is how leaders last. That is how teams stay engaged. That is how organisations retain their best people.

If you are a leader with a fast brain—or someone supporting one—you do not have to choose between momentum and sustainability. You need the right rhythm, supported by systems and expectations that recognise how humans actually work.

I work with leaders and organisations to design leadership practices and work environments that are sustainable, flexible, and neuro-affirming—practices that energise rather than exhaust.

If this resonates, I invite you to book a free call to discuss how we can support you as a leader, or your organisation of leaders. It is a practical first step towards finding a leadership pace that supports both performance and people. When leadership works for people, they stay - and perform.

Kathryn Martens

Book A Call