A Personal Note
Building something new is one of the bravest things you’ll ever do. Taking an idea from a quiet thought to something real — finding the resources, asking people to believe in your vision — is some of the hardest and most rewarding work of a life. And right now, we’re doing it in a world that’s changing faster than any of us expected. AI is reshaping how we work, build, and create, and alongside the excitement there’s a real and very human fear: Will there still be a place for me — for what makes me, me?
I learned how to face that kind of question early. When I was ten years old, my father, Joe — a great engineer and the son of immigrants — handed me Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and said, “Susan, everything you need to know about life can be found in this book.” He also had me read The Bible, the Tao Te Ching, and the poems of Rumi. It was a comprehensive education from a single father who believed, above all, that as long as you have skills, you will never go hungry.
That wisdom was tested. My hardest year was 2000. I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, lost my business, and found myself a homeless single mother sleeping on my brother-in-law’s sofa. I’d tasted early success — as an athlete, a media personality, a business owner — but without the right wisdom or mentorship, I tried to be everything to everyone and lost myself along the way. It was humbling. It was also my never again moment.
So I rebuilt — slowly, and from the inside out — the way my father’s books had taught me: see the terrain as it actually is, hold fast to your purpose, and stay curious enough to find the way through. One year later, I raced the Ironman in Malaysia on a fractured pelvis and finished 8th among the professional women. The terrain hadn’t changed. I had. That is the heart of what I now call Adapt Your Terrain™, and it has shaped everything I’ve built since.
It is my life’s work to help people adapt to their terrain so they can live with greater joy, peace, and fulfillment — whether that terrain is AI, health, leadership, or life itself.
Beyond the work, my children and my husband are my world. My faith grounds me, and I spend time volunteering in my community — St. Mary’s Food Bank is a favorite. These are the things that keep me steady, and a constant reminder that who we are matters more than what we produce.
Whatever you’re navigating — a new venture, a career being reshaped by AI, or simply the fear of beginning — I want you to know you don’t have to do it alone. And that staying human through the change isn’t a weakness. It may be the whole advantage.
— Susan
