Being a head coach at Penn State is very time consuming. There's

Hear the words of Cael Sanderson, Olympian and master of the mat, who said: “Being a head coach at Penn State is very time consuming. There’s a lot of travel involved and speaking engagements and camps.” Though spoken with the calm voice of a teacher, these words resound with the weight of responsibility, for they reveal the hidden burdens that come with the crown of leadership. The glory of being called head coach is not only triumph and honor, but also sacrifice of time, energy, and rest.

The essence of his words lies in the truth that leadership demands more than the eye can see. To the crowd, the coach is but a figure at the edge of the mat, guiding athletes to victory. Yet Sanderson lifts the veil, showing that the role stretches far beyond competition. There are the endless journeys across the land, the countless speaking engagements to inspire others, and the camps to nurture the next generation. Each of these labors is heavy in itself, yet together they form the unbroken chain of duty that binds the leader to his calling.

The ancients knew this truth well. Consider Moses, who not only led his people out of bondage but also bore the burden of teaching, judging, and guiding them day after day. His role was not only about leading them in moments of great triumph, but also about carrying the countless smaller duties that shaped the community’s survival. Sanderson, though speaking of wrestling, echoes this same eternal truth: that the leader’s task is not only in the great contest but in the thousand unseen labors that sustain the vision.

So too do his words remind us of the cost of excellence. To lead one of the greatest wrestling programs in the land is not a part-time task, nor a role for the half-hearted. It consumes, it stretches, it demands. The constant travel uproots the body from home, the engagements require presence and eloquence, the camps demand patience and teaching. This is the price that must be paid for greatness: that one’s time ceases to be one’s own, and is instead given to the mission and the people entrusted to one’s care.

Yet hidden in these burdens is a deeper gift. For though the coach’s schedule is heavy, every mile traveled, every camp held, every speech delivered, becomes a seed planted in the lives of others. Young athletes are inspired, communities are strengthened, the tradition of the sport is carried forward. In this way, Sanderson’s burdens are also his offerings, his sacrifices that bear fruit in others. His exhaustion becomes their strength; his travels, their opportunities.

We see the same truth in history. Alexander of Macedon, in his great conquests, was said to have marched further and longer than many of his soldiers, never asking of them what he did not give himself. The leader must live in motion, must bear more than others, must carry the unseen weight of responsibility. So it is in sport, in battle, in governance, and in life. Sanderson’s words, though plain, remind us of this eternal law: leadership is costly, but it is also transformative.

The lesson, then, is this: do not envy the leader’s crown without also respecting its burdens. To lead is to sacrifice comfort for service, ease for labor, leisure for legacy. And in practice, let each person who aspires to leadership prepare their heart for such demands. If you are called to guide others, do not shrink from the travel, the speaking, the endless work—embrace them as the true forge of greatness. For as Sanderson shows, the visible victories of the leader are built upon countless unseen sacrifices.

Thus, let his words stand as both warning and inspiration: the path of leadership is not easy, but it is noble. It will consume your time, yes, but it will also multiply your impact. And in the end, though the work is heavy, it carries with it the power to shape generations and to leave a mark that endures beyond the fleeting hours of toil.