My Story

I didn't become a coach because I had a calling.

I became a coach because I outgrew a life that used to make sense.

I spent 20+ years in tech and healthcare leadership—solving problems, managing teams, building systems. On paper, things looked fine. But under the surface, something had shifted. The moment I knew was sitting in another strategy meeting, realizing I was solving the same problems I'd solved five years earlier—but caring less each time.

Success felt like repetition.

I wasn't in crisis. Just done. The roles I'd spent years mastering no longer felt like mine.

That in-between space is what drew me to coaching. Not to help other people at first—but to help myself think.

Coaching gave me language and structure to understand why I felt stuck, what patterns I was running, and how to move forward without dismantling everything I'd built.

The shift came when I stopped performing and got honest about who I could actually help:

• Midlife professionals like me—especially 50+—who had done most things "right" and still found themselves restless, bored, burnt out, or quietly questioning everything.

• People who didn't need a transformation fantasy. Just space to think differently.

And over time, I began to see how travel itself—geographic movement, location change, temporary disconnection—could be part of the coaching. Not escape. Not indulgence. Just strategic distance. When you're physically somewhere different, your problems look different too.

I've done sessions from national parks, small towns, even rest stops. Clients tell me they think differently when they know I'm calling from somewhere unexpected. Distance creates perspective—for both of us.

This work matters to me because I've lived the questions my clients are asking: Who am I now? What happens if I stop doing what's always worked? What if I don't want to keep pushing—but I'm not ready to stop?

I built this to be an alternative to performance coaching, pop psychology, and personal branding facades. Just grounded thinking, strategic reflection, and quiet room to ask better questions.

That's what Coach in a Can is. Not a program. Not a pitch. Just coaching that moves—with you, and because of you.

Sometimes the best thinking happens when you step outside your usual environment. Even if it's just knowing your coach is doing the same.

Like most coaches, I started by trying too hard. I over-delivered, undercharged, chased credentials, mimicked other people's voices, and tried to be palatable.

None of it worked—because none of it felt real.

That's when Coach in a Can started to take shape.

The name came from my 1965 Airstream. At first it was a throwaway line—a joke about coaching from the road. But the metaphor stuck:

Coaching that's self-contained, portable, and useful. Not a life makeover. Not a funnel. Just insight you can take with you.

I built Coach in a Can around single-session coaching. No sales pitch. No subscription. Just real conversation, for real people, figuring out what's next.