There is a difference between being prepared and becoming someone else because their way looks more impressive.
I have been thinking lately about how easy it is to start measuring yourself against everybody around you.
That is especially true during an election campaign.
People give you advice.
Use this tool.
Do more of that.
Put up more signs.
Be more visible.
Answer this person.
Push back harder.
Make sure everybody sees your name.
Most of it is well-intentioned. Some of it is probably good advice.
But there comes a point where you have to decide what kind of campaign you are actually willing to run.
Julia and I ordered twenty signs.
That was deliberate.
It was not because signs do not matter. They do. People need to know I am a candidate and how to find me.
But I do not want this campaign to become a contest about who can put their name on the most roads or be louder than everybody else.
That is not the way I want to do this.
I would rather sit with people.
Listen.
Answer honestly.
Write what I believe.
Show up in the community.
That sounds simple, but I would be lying if I said I never questioned it.
I drive around and see signs everywhere. I see different strategies, some more aggressive, more visible and more conventional.
Sometimes I look at all of that and wonder whether I should be doing more of it.
Then something happens that reminds me why I chose this approach in the first place.
Today Julia and I were dropping our daughter off at a birthday party for a friend.
We walked her to the door. It opened, and a man inside called out, “There’s our mayor!”
I laughed, thanked him, and told him, “The election is October 26. Nobody has given me that title yet.”
It was a small moment.
But it stayed with me.
Something similar has happened several times now in different places around the community, and every time it catches me off guard.
Not because I think it means the election is decided. It certainly does not.
What it tells me is something simpler.
People are noticing.
And they are noticing without me having to become somebody I am not.
That matters to me.
I have spent enough years in business, coaching, community organizations and leadership roles to know that there is always another way somebody thinks you should do things.
Sometimes they are right.
You listen.
You learn.
You adjust.
Leadership requires that.
But listening to advice is not the same thing as surrendering your own judgment.
There is a difference between learning from somebody else and trying to become them.
That is what borrowed armour is.
Something may have worked very well for somebody else.
A strategy.
A style.
A way of speaking.
A way of leading.
It may be perfectly good.
It simply may not fit you.
And if you cannot walk properly in it, eventually that becomes a problem.
I think leadership requires enough humility to try things and enough honesty to admit when they do not fit.
That is what I am trying to do in this campaign.
I am preparing.
I am doing the work.
I am meeting people.
I am reading.
I am asking questions.
I am listening to criticism.
I am learning things about this township that I did not know when I started.
And when someone gives me good advice, I am willing to use it.
But I am also trying to remain very clear about the kind of person I want to be while doing it.
That includes how I respond when people disagree with me.
There have been comments I could have answered sharply.
There have been things said that I thought were unfair.
I could spend a lot of time defending myself or trying to win every argument.
I do not want to.
If I have something truthful, constructive and useful to add, I will add it.
If all I am going to do is make an angry conversation angrier, I would rather leave it alone.
That is part of the campaign I am choosing to run too.
Twenty signs.
Conversations around tables.
Writing openly about what I believe.
Answering questions.
Going where people invite me.
Listening when somebody disagrees.
Doing the work in front of me.
None of that guarantees an outcome.
And that is okay.
An election belongs to the people who vote in it.
My responsibility is different.
My responsibility is to give people a clear enough picture of who I am, how I think and how I would serve that they can make their own decision.
That is why I keep coming back to borrowed armour.
There will always be another strategy I could put on.
Some of it may even be excellent.
But if I cannot walk honestly in it, I do not want to wear it.
I would rather use what I already know how to carry.
Show up.
Listen.
Speak plainly.
Do the work.
And let the people of North Glengarry decide.