Every leader lives between two heights. The problem is not knowing which one you're standing on.
Below is the valley: where execution happens, where your people are, where the day-to-day battle is fought. Above is the hill: the only point from which you can see the whole picture, anticipate what's coming, and decide where to move.
Staying too long in the valley turns you into your own team's bottleneck. Taking refuge on the hill turns you into a strategist no one feels close to. Real leadership isn't about choosing one height. It's about knowing when to come down and when to climb - and having the discipline to move even when the height you're on feels more comfortable.
That's what I call judgment. It's built in friction: in the mistakes you paid dearly for, in the conversations you postponed, in the broken teams you inherited, and in the decisions made without having all the answers.
These are real stories - from corporate trenches, from a business I had to close, from the people who taught me to lead - and a clear model you'll be able to use the next time everything breaks.
Because when the fire comes, and it always does, the only thing you have is the judgment you already built.
