What ranching is teaching me about patience, discipline, and building something that lasts.
I’ve spent most of my professional life trying to make things move faster. In education, we wanted to accelerate student achievement, improve outcomes, and implement new ideas. In technology, the focus was often on accelerating product development, increasing revenue, and finding ways to scale. There was always another quarter, another goal, and another opportunity right around the corner.
Then I bought a ranch. Turns out, cattle don’t care about your quarterly planning meeting. And horses aren’t particularly interested in your growth strategy, either.
After more than a year at Halcyon Ranch, I’m learning that some things simply cannot be accelerated. For someone who has spent 30 years building things, often at a pretty fast pace, that’s been an interesting adjustment.
I’ve never considered myself an especially patient person when it comes to building something. I’ve been fortunate to work with organizations that experienced incredible growth, and I’ve always enjoyed the challenge of turning an idea into something tangible. When I see an opportunity, my natural instinct is to figure out how to make it happen. Preferably yesterday.
But agriculture operates on a different clock. Raising cattle takes time. Developing a horse operation takes time. Building the facilities and infrastructure to support those businesses takes time. And when you’re funding much of that growth through your own equity, capital becomes another important part of the equation. You can’t simply decide to accelerate the process because you’re feeling impatient.
I don’t believe ranching has changed my ambition. If anything, my goals for Halcyon Ranch have become more ambitious over the past year. What’s changed is the timeline. In technology, we often measure progress in quarters. On the ranch, I’m learning to think in three- to five-year increments. The ambition hasn’t changed. The discipline required to achieve it has.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned throughout my career is that building a strong foundation isn’t the opposite of moving quickly. It’s what allows you to move quickly. I saw this as a school district leader, where a clear strategic plan helped establish priorities and guide decisions. I’ve seen it in technology companies, where strong operating principles, disciplined go-to-market strategies, and reliable data create the conditions for sustainable growth.
Think about technical debt. When a company cuts corners developing a product, it might get to market faster. But those shortcuts eventually become expensive problems. What initially looked like speed can turn into years of rework, increased costs, and limitations on future innovation. The same thing happens when companies scale sales operations without understanding their pipeline, customer acquisition costs, or the friction that exists throughout the buying process. You might grow quickly for a while, but eventually the foundation catches up with you.
I’m discovering that ranching isn’t much different. Before building a new arena, expanding an equine operation, or investing in additional facilities, I have to think about how those investments fit into the larger picture. Will an arena generate additional boarding revenue? Could it support lessons, clinics, or other activities? Will it increase the long-term value of the property? And perhaps most importantly, will the operation be sustainable once construction is finished? An idea might be a great idea, but that doesn’t necessarily make it the right idea for today.
One of the more interesting changes I’ve made recently at Halcyon Ranch is moving toward a cash-only operating model. I’m working to eliminate the temptation to finance every new idea and instead focus on operating within the capital available. That’s not particularly exciting. There’s no ribbon-cutting ceremony for deciding not to spend money. But it’s an important part of building something sustainable.
My longer-term vision includes expanding the equine facilities, developing Halcyon Performance Horses, and creating multiple revenue streams from the property. Originally, I envisioned launching the performance horse operation in 2027. That may now be 2028. A few years ago, I probably would have viewed that as a frustrating delay. Today, I’m trying to view it as an opportunity to prepare. I can develop the business plan, understand the capital requirements, evaluate the infrastructure, and think through how the different operations will complement one another. That way, when the opportunity and capital align, I’m ready to move.
Patience doesn’t mean sitting still. Sometimes it means doing the work that nobody sees so you’re prepared when the time comes.
There’s another dimension to all of this that I’ve been thinking about. I started this chapter of my life later than I might have imagined. After 30 years in education and technology, I’m now learning an entirely different business, building something from the ground up, and thinking about what the next decade might look like. And the reality is, none of us knows exactly how much time we have.
That creates an interesting tension. Part of me wants to build everything now. The arena, the horse operation, the cattle business, and all the other ideas floating around in my head. Another part of me recognizes that taking on too much debt or rushing into the wrong investments could jeopardize the very future I’m trying to create. It’s a balancing act between urgency and patience.
Last week, I wrote about how the clock isn’t stopping while we decide. I still believe that. But I’ve also come to appreciate something else. Just because the clock is running doesn’t mean every decision needs to be rushed. Sometimes the most important decision is choosing to build the foundation before adding another floor.
I’ve been thinking about what success at Halcyon Ranch might look like three years from now. By October 2029, I’d love to see several small businesses operating on the property, each generating consistent revenue and contributing to positive cash flow. Not necessarily enormous businesses. Just sustainable ones. I’d like to see facilities that were thoughtfully designed and built, operating agreements that make sense, and a property that has increased in value because of the improvements we’ve made.
One of the measures I discussed recently on The Wealthy Cowboy Show is pretty simple: How much of the mortgage is the land paying for? It’s not a complicated KPI, but it helps me focus on whether the investments I’m making are actually improving the operation.
Ultimately, I’d like Halcyon Ranch to be something that someone else could operate someday, whether that’s my boys or another owner. When I purchased the property in July 2025, I was fortunate to step into a place where I could begin building my own vision. I’d like to leave it in even better shape. That requires thinking beyond what I can accomplish this month or this year and considering what will still make sense five, ten, or twenty years from now. That’s not just business planning. It’s stewardship.
I’ve spent much of my career helping organizations grow. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that growth and progress aren’t always the same thing. You can grow revenue while creating unsustainable costs. You can expand operations while weakening your foundation. And you can move quickly while heading in the wrong direction.
The ranch is reminding me that some of the most important work happens long before the results become visible. I’m still learning to be patient. I still look at plans for the arena and wish I could start construction tomorrow. And I still have more ideas than I have time or capital to pursue.
But I’m beginning to understand that the goal isn’t to build everything as quickly as possible. It’s to build something worth having when you’re finished.
And maybe that’s what it really means to earn the right to grow.
