The Colorado River is dammed to the east and west of the city of Austin. This results in a peaceful lake running right through the heart of downtown. Along its shores, the citizens of the capital had the good sense to build a hardpack trail looping along the water’s entire length. On spring days with friendly sunshine and temps in the Seventies, the trail streams with cyclists, walkers and runners.

Last week, my wife, daughter and I rolled into Austin for Fiona’s first college visit at the University of Texas. On the second morning, Mrs T and I went for a run along the lake. Because I was doing a tempo run, my Lulu got started a little earlier than me while I warmed up. About 15 minutes into the effort, I spotted her up ahead mixed in with a decent crowd of exercisers. I was looking forward to surprising her with an inappropriate comment on the effect of her running shorts as I passed her by. But when I was within striking distance, she turned and foiled my ambush.

“I knew it was you,” she beamed.

Of course, she did, there were only about 10,000 people going by.

“How?” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Your footsteps.” She hollered back.

I kept running because this was the last, real workout of some race prep I’ve been doing. But I really wanted to stop. I wanted to stop and throw my arms around my wife and let her know just how grateful I am for her awesome attentiveness.

A couple of weeks ago, I was presenting in Lulu’s class for “Career Day.” Among the things we’d been asked to share were the skills that helped us in our job. “Listening” was the first thing I prioritized. Most of the kids met this little nugget with the blank stare of the unimpressed. “Listening” doesn’t really resonate in today’s world. For the most part, people seem more concerned with letting you know what they think, how they feel, what they would do, what their experience is. Raise your hand if you’ve ever been in a conversation and realized your partner is just waiting for you to stop talking so they can start again.

In my life, nobody listens better than my wife. She doesn’t interrupt, she makes sure she understands what I’m saying and she’s truly concerned with what matters to me. My goal these days is to emulate her the best that I can.

Leadership takes different forms. Typically, most of the leaders I see, have much to say. They’ve got big ideas and serious conviction that their directions are the best ones to follow. This is reasonable and mostly, expected.

Lulu teaches 7^th grade math. Is there a more important leader in our world today? And while she’s expert in the curriculum, I think the best asset those kids are getting from her is her listening. Unlike many of their parents, Lulu pays attention to why the kids struggle mastering certain skills. She asks why they put their head on their desks when they should be engaged. She wants to know what’s causing the drop off in their homework. She gets it when a student is distracted by their classmates and would benefit from a new seating assignment. On weekend mornings, when I look up from the sports headlines to ask her what she’s reading, nine times out of ten, she’s looking for fresh ideas to bring to her classroom.

Fiona loved Austin. We all did. It would be a good place for my daughter to continue her life’s path. There’s a lot of listening to be done there, like everywhere. I should know, my wife taught me that.