Run toward the hardest problems. This approach has helped me to

Host: The lab was alive with quiet power — the low hum of machines, the faint electric smell of solder and circuitry, the flicker of monitors casting blue halos in the dimness. Outside the glass walls, rain lashed the city, each droplet sliding down the pane like a streak of restless light. Inside, the world was a different kind of storm — one made of algorithms, equations, and human ambition.

At a central table, Jack stood with his sleeves rolled up, tracing lines across a circuit board. Across from him, Jeeny sat cross-legged on a stool, eyes reflecting the cold glow of the computer screens. The silence between them was dense with thought — and the soft rhythm of creation.

Jeeny: (reading from her tablet) “Lisa Su once said, ‘Run toward the hardest problems. This approach has helped me to learn a tremendous amount from both success and failure.’”

Jack: (without looking up) “That’s how you know someone’s brilliant — when they make pain sound productive.”

Jeeny: “It’s not about pain. It’s about courage. Running toward hard problems means refusing comfort. It’s how progress breathes.”

Jack: (soldering carefully) “Or how people burn out.”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But what’s the alternative? Mediocrity disguised as balance?”

Host: The rain intensified, rattling against the windows like static. The glow of a single desk lamp haloed their faces — one calm and curious, the other sharp and skeptical.

Jack: “You think hardship guarantees growth?”

Jeeny: “Not guarantees. But it invites it. The easy path never teaches resilience. Failure is a better teacher than comfort ever was.”

Jack: “You sound like every motivational poster in Silicon Valley.”

Jeeny: “And yet, here you are — working overtime on a project no one asked you to finish tonight.”

Jack: (grinning) “Touché.”

Host: A faint spark snapped from his soldering iron, a small burst of orange before fading into nothing. The smell of heated metal mingled with the rain — progress, in scent form.

Jeeny: “Lisa Su built AMD back from the brink. She took on challenges no one else wanted. That kind of leadership — running toward the hardest problems — isn’t masochism. It’s vision. The difference between a survivor and a creator.”

Jack: “Vision’s romantic until you’re the one staring down a problem that could swallow you whole.”

Jeeny: “But that’s the point. She didn’t run because she knew she’d win — she ran because the problem was worth failing for.”

Host: The words hung between them, heavy and alive. The computer screens reflected in their eyes like constellations of logic and hope.

Jack: “So failure becomes part of the process.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Not the end, but a checkpoint. Every hard problem redefines what you thought possible.”

Jack: “You sound like you’ve fallen in love with difficulty.”

Jeeny: “Maybe I have. Because difficulty’s honest. It doesn’t flatter you. It either breaks you or remakes you.”

Jack: “And you call that beautiful?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Because creation always demands destruction first — of ego, of certainty, of safety.”

Host: The lights flickered once as thunder rolled in the distance. The building seemed to vibrate — fragile but defiant against the storm. Jack set down his tools, finally looking at her.

Jack: “You know, people always celebrate success. But they never talk about the fear that comes before it. The voice that says, ‘This might be the one you can’t solve.’”

Jeeny: “That fear’s part of the formula. It means you’re close to something real. Every innovation stands on the trembling shoulders of doubt.”

Jack: (quietly) “And when you fail?”

Jeeny: “Then you learn the shape of your strength.”

Host: The rain softened, turning from chaos to rhythm. A small smile crossed Jack’s face — the kind that comes when resistance begins to make sense.

Jack: “You think Lisa Su ever doubted herself?”

Jeeny: “Of course. But doubt isn’t the opposite of confidence — it’s the fuel of competence. It keeps you sharp, humble, curious.”

Jack: “So the hardest problems aren’t just technical. They’re personal.”

Jeeny: “Always. The biggest equations are the ones written inside us.”

Host: The clock ticked softly. Somewhere, the city power grid hummed — an invisible heartbeat. The lab felt like a temple now, a sanctuary where persistence and failure met in quiet understanding.

Jack: “You know what I admire about her? She didn’t just chase success. She engineered it. Turned failure into architecture.”

Jeeny: “That’s what great leaders do — they make broken things useful again. Machines. Companies. People.”

Jack: (after a pause) “So maybe running toward the hardest problems isn’t about bravery. Maybe it’s about curiosity — the refusal to let ignorance win.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Bravery fades when you’re scared. Curiosity survives.”

Host: Jeeny stood, stretching. Her reflection in the glass seemed to merge with the city lights — bright, determined, human.

Jeeny: “The hardest problems always carry the biggest truths. And the only way to find them is to walk straight into the fire.”

Jack: (grinning) “And hope you come out with more than ashes.”

Jeeny: “Even ashes have stories.”

Host: The rain had stopped completely now. The world outside shimmered with puddles — each one a small mirror reflecting the faint stars above the skyline.

Jack powered down the last screen, the lab plunging into semi-darkness. Only the city’s glow remained — a reminder that light always finds its way through complexity.

Jeeny: (softly) “You know, I think Lisa Su wasn’t talking just about engineering. She was talking about life. Run toward what scares you — because comfort doesn’t teach.”

Jack: “And learning is the only real success.”

Jeeny: “Exactly.”

Host: They stood at the glass wall, looking out over the city — a maze of light, ambition, and unspoken dreams. The storm had cleaned the air, and for a moment, everything seemed sharper, truer.

And in that quiet, Lisa Su’s words resonated like circuitry beneath the skin of the night:

That progress is born of discomfort,
that failure is the blueprint of mastery,
and that the heart’s truest courage
is not in fleeing the storm —
but in running toward it.

Host: The city’s hum rose again, steady and alive.
The lab lights flickered once, then steadied —
a quiet metaphor, glowing against the dark.