From Fragmentation to Focus: Why Neighborhood Work Needs Finish Lines
When I signed up for my first ultra-marathon — 50 kilometers — I thought the hardest part would be the race itself. It wasn’t.
The hardest part was everything leading up to it. Months of training. Endless early mornings, often starting runs at 4 a.m. just to be done by noon. Running through all kinds of weather — snow, freezing rain — I once came home with a literal ice beard.
And then, on race day, mile three, I hit a rock hard enough to break a toe. I had 28 miles left to run. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t pretty, but I finished.
Not because it was easy — it wasn’t — but because of all the preparation, sacrifice, and belief that had gotten me to the starting line. I had to adapt my expectations mid-race, but I refused to quit.
I came back the next year, better prepared, with even more setbacks during training — fatigue, weather, sore muscles, scheduling life around long runs — and I finished strong.
What struck me most along the way were the reactions:
“Why would anyone want to run that far?”
“I can’t run because of my knees.”
“I don’t even drive that far.”
I realized how few people give themselves the chance to be pushed, to see what they’re capable of, to move beyond what feels comfortable.
And here’s the thing: in neighborhood work, it’s the same.
We want transformation, but we often don’t name the race we’re running. We don’t name the finish line families deserve. And because we don’t, we settle for activity instead of impact, for “good enough” instead of what’s truly possible.
Naming the Finish Line
In a race, you always know where the finish line is. The mileage, the course map, the goal — it’s all crystal clear.
In neighborhood work, we rarely have that same clarity. We talk about programs, grants, or initiatives, but not the whole picture of what we want the neighborhood to become — for the families who already live there.
And because we don’t name the finish line, several things happen:
Energy fragments. Partners and funders pull in different directions.
Expectations shrink. We start celebrating small wins without asking if they add up to the future families deserve.
Belief fades. It’s hard to rally people to a dream that hasn’t been clearly spoken out loud.
Families in these neighborhoods want what every family wants: thriving schools, safe streets, stable homes, opportunity that doesn’t feel out of reach. They deserve nothing less.
Naming the finish line means refusing to settle for anything short of that picture.
Building the Training Plan
When I trained for that 50k, I didn’t just lace up my shoes and start running. I had a plan. It broke the big goal into smaller pieces — mileage, recovery, nutrition, strength work. Each part connected to the others so that, over months, my body could do something it couldn’t have done on day one.
Neighborhood transformation needs that same systems-thinking.
A finish line without a training plan is just a wish. Real change requires:
A Vision System: The finish line clearly defined — the neighborhood families want and deserve, spoken out loud and written down.
A People System: Preparing residents, leaders, and partners for the journey, giving them the tools and roles they need to succeed.
A Support System: Aligning housing, education, safety, economic development — all the parts that must work together, like muscles in a race-trained body.
Without a plan, activity can look busy but stay directionless. A good plan keeps every step connected to the goal.
Training Miles = Discipline and Drive
Training for a race teaches you something fast: there are no shortcuts.
Some days you feel strong; others, you question why you signed up at all. But the plan doesn’t care how you feel on Tuesday morning — the miles have to get done.
Neighborhood transformation is the same. Once the finish line is named and the plan is built, the work requires drive and discipline:
Showing up week after week, even when the first results seem small.
Using milestones as training runs, not endpoints.
Holding onto belief when the weather turns rough — literally or figuratively.
The goal isn’t motion for motion’s sake. It’s consistent progress toward what families deserve.
Setbacks, Adaptability, and Relentless Forward Progress
In my first ultra-marathon, I broke a toe at mile three. I had to adapt my expectations — no personal record, no perfect race — but quitting wasn’t an option.
Neighborhood work will have its broken-toe moments: funding gaps, leadership turnover, strategies that fall flat. That’s why the best plans build in adaptability:
Space to pause and recover without abandoning the goal.
Flexibility to change tactics without changing direction.
Checkpoints to keep us from wandering off course when things get hard.
Ultra-runner Bryon Powell calls this mindset Relentless Forward Progress: keep moving toward the goal, even if you have to slow down or take a different route.
Neighborhood work requires the same stubborn belief: the finish line doesn’t move, even when the path does.
Race Day: Crossing Together
The best moment of any race isn’t running alone — it’s crossing the line with the people who trained beside you.
In neighborhoods, that moment comes when families experience the schools, housing, safety, and opportunity they’ve always wanted — and deserved.
Not “good enough.”
A community where thriving is normal, not exceptional.
The type of community you want for yourself and for your own kids.
That’s the real finish line. Let’s not settle for anything else.
The Call to Leaders
If you lead in this work, here’s the challenge:
Name the race. Make the vision explicit.
Build the training plan. Systems, people, and supports aligned to the goal.
Stay adaptive. Expect setbacks, but keep moving forward.
Neighborhood transformation isn’t a sprint. It’s a long-distance race requiring clarity, preparation, discipline, and relentless forward progress until families experience the future they deserve.