March Forth. Year Six.
My most vulnerable post yet. Six years later, one brutal season, and what I learned on the other side of burnout, ADHD, and more.
👋 Hey, I’m Grant. Each week I share lessons from the sales leadership trenches. What’s working, what’s not, and what I wish someone had told me years ago.
In this week’s Stretch VP: Weekly:
Six years of Stretch VP and the hardest year of my professional life
What burnout, an ADHD diagnosis, and the Enneagram taught me about leadership
My 3 Ms for mental reset and clarity and why I'm building differently now
Plus: What “March Forth” means to me six years later.
Want to work together? I help founders and revenue leaders build and operationalize the systems and structure behind predictable, scalable revenue. Reply to this email or visit my website explore what that could look like.
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Six years ago today, on March 4th, I hit publish on my very first Stretch VP post.
This year, still circled on my calendar. A reminder to MARCH FORTH.
At first, maybe it felt like a fun pun or simple reminder, which is fine. But today it feels a bit more symbolic.
Because if I’m being honest, the last year or so has probably been the hardest stretch of my professional life. Emotionally. Mentally. Personally. And I didn’t see it coming. Definitely not on my Bingo card when I was formulating my 2025 Plan of “2025 Time to Thrive”.
When It Started to Crack
There wasn't one dramatic explosion. Just a series of events that built up over time.
On the personal side, call it mid‑life, call it family dynamics, call it the demands of being a Father and husband. All good things. All things I chose. But somewhere in there, some of it started to feel disjointed and not fully authentic. Like I was playing roles well, but not always living aligned or present.
Professionally it was coming to a boiling point. Multiple leadership changes. Two CROs. Reorg after reorg. Being handed the full number. Flying across the country. Carrying responsibility without the autonomy to execute the way I believe works.
I could see what we were capable of, but I felt handcuffed.
Then the culture started shifting too. Finger pointing. Name calling. Scapegoating. A culture that did not align with how I believe leaders should show up.
I’ve always believed if I’m going to point a finger at a rep, there better be two pointing back at me. I believe in servant leadership. Shield, not sword. Dive in. Develop. Coach.
At some point, I had to be honest with myself: this isn’t healthy.
And in cosmic justice or comedy, I was part of a restructure. The truth is, I had multiple opportunities to leave before that. I stayed. I wanted to be loyal. I told myself to keep the blinders on. Keep grinding.
That made it sting more. And way more exhausting.
If I zoom out now, I can see it for what it was. A series of moments forcing me to confront something I had been avoiding. Another leader also part of this mentioned to me his way of looking at it: “Grant, what if it was happening for me, and not to me?” That hit.
My lifestyle was suffering. I wasn’t physically healthy. I wasn’t present with my family. It was endless Slack messages, deal reviews, late night fire drills.
You don’t realize how burnt out you are until you step out and perhaps see the ashes and smoke (yes this is me typing this analogy and not AI).
That was an awakening.
The Diagnosis and the Decision
Then another layer.
I was officially diagnosed with adult ADHD. That one felt like a light was flipped on in a dark room.
All of a sudden, decades of quirks, forgetfulness, hyperfocus, relentless pursuit of perfection, unfinished ideas, bursts of creativity followed by execution gaps had a name. Things started to make sense.
I had built a career. Led teams. Closed enterprise deals. Built playbooks and frameworks, all without knowing that part of my brain simply worked differently.
There was pride in that.But like Jurassic Park, nature finds a way.
But there was also regret. Plenty of missed opportunities. Years of white knuckling through burnout and thinking I just needed more discipline. Or more focus. Just more.
The diagnosis forced me to face something else too. There was depression mixed in. There was exhaustion. There was a heavy, unsettled feeling I couldn’t shake.
I remember telling my wife at one point, “I don’t care if, or what the next job is. I just can’t keep doing this”.
She said, why don’t you take a sabbatical?
We were fortunate enough financially to even consider that. We’d have to be careful and calculated, and I know not everyone can do that.
But the cost of doing nothing had become greater than the risk of action. (You know how I feel about leveraging loss aversion as a driver for action in sales. Apparently this works personally too).
My 15-year-old son Chase helped me see something else. I have never had a summer off since I was probably 13 mowing lawns. There has always been a job. A quota. A number. A next rung.
Woah.
So we came up with a pan and I stepped away. Not to figure out the next title. Not to optimize my resume. To get healthy and to be present.
What Helped Me Heal
During that time however, I didn’t just sit still.
Books. Podcasts. Long walks. Lifting again. Therapy. Diving into attachment styles. Deep research on psychology.
But one thing became a major unlock.
The Enneagram. (Warning ADHD tangent)
It was one of those “how does this know me so well?” moments. It felt like a punch in the face with an owner’s manual for myself and the relationships I cared about most.
It gave language to things I had felt for decades but couldn’t articulate.
It helped me see the patterns underneath my behavior. The fear underneath my ambition. The stress underneath my intensity. Why certain rooms drained me. Why certain leaders inspired and others triggered me. Why some reps responded differently than I expected or hoped.
My wiring and motivations. My blind spots. My defaults under stress. The way I chase progress but also why I can drift. The way I overextend (I hate saying no). The way I try to earn approval through achievement.
It helped me see other people as themselves too.
That changed how I lead and coach. It changed how I show up as a husband and dad. In conflict. In my faith.
It helped me see how I can overtalk when I’m anxious or feel unseen. How I can withdraw when I feel misunderstood or criticized. How I can push for solutions when what my wife or kids actually need is patience, empathy, and presence.
It helped me recognize that my intensity, which serves me professionally or on the football field, can overwhelm others, especially at home.
I stopped just trying to be better and started understanding what was driving me in the first place. If you haven’t explored the Enneagram, take the free test HERE
Through this journey of self‑discovery, reflection, rest, and help from others, I came up with what I now call my 3 Ms. It’s my recipe for a mental reset, motivation, spirituality, clarity, energy, and honestly the best medicine for my ADHD/Enneagram 7 self.
Music. Music has always spoken to me like nothing else. A long drive with headphones. Worship. Old playlists. Lyrics saying what I couldn't. (you have to check out Stephen Wilson Jr’s: I am a song)
Movement. Movement got me back in my body. Lifting, walking, hiking, running, mountain biking, golfing again. The mind just opens up when I move.
Mountains. Utah trails, trees, rivers, fishing, silence, sunrise and infinite horizons. Gives me perspective and awe. Unbeatable.
Any one of them by themselves will change my state. All three together? Watch out.
Slowly, I started to feel like myself again.
Around that same window I went to a Tony Robbins event. (You know I love me some T.R.) It was emotional and motivating for the first time in a while.
It felt like a jumpstart. It reminded me that I wasn’t stuck, wasn’t broken. Just wired differently. When channeled correctly, that wiring is a gift.
It helped me look inward in a way I had not done in years. Who am I really? What do I actually want? Why do I keep just climbing the next rung just because that’s what you’re supposed to do?
Building Again - With Intention
Once I got healthier, motivation and energy returned as well. Ideas and inspiration came back.
I like building. I love the psychology behind successful leadership. I love coaching reps. I love implementing systems for scale. Bringing structure to the madness. The science plus art recipe I believe in.
Stretch VP has existed for years. I’ve had consulting clients here and there. I’ve advised founders and PE firms. I’ve built comp plans, redesigned stage criteria and sales processes, implemented MEDDPICC, and cleaned up forecasting chaos.
This time I decided to formalize it. Finished the website. Build an actual business model. Productize the frameworks. Turn my MPST Quadrant into the EDGE Framework. Launch the products, courses, assessments. Package the work.
And? The traction is real. Active clients. EDGE assessments and diagnostics delivered. Packages fully active.
I’m not at the end goal yet. It can still be scary.
But it’s moving in the right direction, and I’m moving from a much healthier place.
March Forth
So March 4th hits differently this year.
Six years ago it was a newsletter launch and a play on words to remind myself to take action.
Today it’s intentional.
March forth after burnout.
March forth after choosing health over ego.
March forth after realizing your brain works differently.
Life has a way of forcing the pause you refuse to take. The body keeps the score.
Sometimes the hardest season becomes the foundation for the most aligned one.
If you’re in a heavy season right now, I see you.
If you’re grinding with blinders on, I’ve been there.
If you feel that quiet nudge to change something, pay attention.
Six years ago I started writing about stretching.
This year I’m reminded that’s life. I’m living it.
March forth.
Thanks for reading!
If this was helpful, forward it to another sales leader who might need it.
Want to work together? I help founders and revenue leaders build scalable sales systems through Stretch VP. Reply to this email or DM me to explore what that could look like. — Grant 👋
About Stretch VP: Weekly
Lessons from the sales leadership trenches on what works, what breaks, and how to build systems behind scalable revenue.
I’m Grant. This is where I unpack what I’ve learned leading sales teams for the last two decades.
The wins, the scars, and the things I wish someone had told me earlier. Sometimes tactical, sometimes reflective. But always grounded in real leadership and real life strategy.
I also work directly with founders and revenue leaders through Stretch VP when deeper support is needed. If you’re building or leading a sales organization and trying to do it the right way, welcome.