The Weight We Carry

Being a lawyer is demanding. Being a judge is even more so. For years, I carried a weight that I didn’t always know how to describe—a constant, low-level pressure that followed me home at night and showed up with me in the courtroom the next morning.

Every case, every decision, every file in front of me had real consequences for real people. That was never lost on me. I took the responsibility seriously—as I believe all judges and attorneys should—but the truth is, it can be exhausting.

I started my legal career with big dreams about making a difference, about serving the public, and about being the kind of person who never looked away when things got hard. What I didn’t expect was the quiet guilt that crept in when I even considered taking a break. Stepping away felt selfish. Like I was somehow letting someone down by resting.

When Rest Feels Like a Luxury

I know I’m not alone in this. In our profession, there’s this unspoken culture of “go, go, go.” Court calendars don’t stop. Clients need answers. Cases pile up. And let’s be honest—burnout isn’t always taken seriously until it’s too late. Somewhere along the way, we started wearing exhaustion like a badge of honor.

As a former judge, I often felt like I needed to be the steady hand for everyone else. Even when I was no longer on the bench and shifted back into practice, the expectation to always be available, always be composed, didn’t fade.

But here’s what I’ve learned: when you give everything to your work and leave nothing for yourself, you eventually run empty. That doesn’t help anyone—not your clients, not your colleagues, and certainly not your own family.

Lacing Up for My Sanity

A few years ago, I started running again—not because I wanted to train for anything, but because I needed space to breathe. I needed to clear my head. I needed to do something that had nothing to do with law books, deadlines, or verdicts.

At first, I fought the guilt. I’d be out on a run and find my mind drifting back to emails I hadn’t answered, court decisions I could’ve handled differently, or meetings I needed to prep for. But slowly, something shifted. The more I ran, the more I realized that this was the only time I truly let my mind rest.

It wasn’t just about the physical movement—it was about permission. I was giving myself permission to stop carrying everyone else’s burdens for 30, 45, maybe 60 minutes a day. That might not sound like much, but in a profession where we rarely stop moving mentally, it was life-changing.

Burnout Doesn’t Announce Itself

One of the most dangerous things about burnout is how quietly it builds. You don’t notice it all at once. It shows up in small ways—snapping at your family, losing patience with clients, feeling foggy in court, forgetting why you loved the work in the first place.

I’ve felt all of those things. I ignored the signs for a long time because I thought I was just “doing my job.” But we’re not machines. Even the best of us need to hit pause.

Running gave me that pause. It helped me reconnect with parts of myself I’d ignored for too long. I started listening to music again while running—some days it was Springsteen, other days it was something newer. The music reminded me of who I was outside the profession.

Redefining Productivity

I’ve come to realize that rest is not the enemy of productivity—it’s part of it. The legal system will never be short on work. There will always be more cases, more people in need, more systems to improve. But that doesn’t mean we have to burn ourselves out trying to fix it all in one breath.

As professionals—especially those in high-responsibility roles like judges and attorneys—we need to redefine what it means to be effective. Effectiveness includes clarity, empathy, patience, and wisdom. You can’t practice any of those things if you’re running on fumes.

Giving Permission to Others

Now, when I talk to younger attorneys or colleagues dealing with the same pressure I once internalized, I tell them what I wish someone had told me earlier: it’s okay to take care of yourself. In fact, it’s necessary.

Go for the run. Take the day off. Unplug for an hour. Go to the concert. Be a human being, not just a legal professional.

Because the truth is, the law is important—but so is your health, your sanity, and your ability to show up fully for the people you serve.

Final Strides

These days, I still run—not because I’m chasing miles or medals, but because it helps me remember who I am. It helps me shake off the stress, clear the fog, and return to my work with a better frame of mind.

The guilt doesn’t haunt me like it used to. I’ve learned that rest is not a betrayal of duty. It’s what allows us to do the work we were called to do, with more strength, more clarity, and more heart.

So if you’re reading this and feel like the job never stops, take a breath. Lace up your shoes. Step outside. You might just find, like I did, that running away from burnout is the first step toward running back to yourself.