By Christopher Carter, Chicago-based keynote speaker, communication expert, and author specializing in leadership presence and connection.
As a keynote speaker, I’m often asked how leaders can stay focused and resilient in the face of change. My answer is simple: no one does it alone. Real growth happens in community. We all need a network that helps us rise after we fall—and that insight came to me years ago at a ranch in Wyoming.
A few summers ago, while staying at a working dude ranch in Wyoming, I met a young man who reminded me what growth really looks like, and how much it depends on the people around us.
He was the son of the ranch manager, a polite, hardworking kid who had decided that before the summer was out, he was going to ride a bull. Not a mechanical one—a real one. He’d been training for months and had finally signed up for the local event at the Cody, Wyoming rodeo.
The night of his first ride, the grandstands were packed. Dust hung in the air under the floodlights, and you could feel the mix of excitement and nerves rippling through the riders. When his turn came, he climbed onto the bull, jaw set tight, trying to steady his breathing.
The gate flew open, and within seconds, he was airborne. The bull bucked once, twice, and he was tossed hard into the dirt. The crowd groaned. He got up limping, brushing himself off, trying to look fine but wearing the unmistakable look of a kid whose pride hurt more than anything else.
Later that night, he told me he might be done with bull riding for a while. “Maybe I’m just not built for it,” he said.
But the next morning, I heard the low hum of the mechanical bull from the training corral. There he was again—helmet on, boots strapped, climbing back up.
He wasn’t alone.
A few of the ranch hands had pulled up chairs along the fence. These weren’t old-west cowboys out of a movie—they were modern ranch staff: horse trainers, trail guides, and wranglers in baseball caps and worn jeans. They had their coffee in travel mugs, music playing quietly from a Bluetooth speaker, and the easy confidence of people who knew the work never really stops.
Every time the young man tried another run, they had something to say.
“Not bad, but keep your hand lower next time.”
“You fall like that again, we’re posting it online.”
“Nice. That’s the seat you’re looking for.”
There was plenty of teasing, but it came from a place of support. And every time he improved, they let him know it.
By the end of the week, we all went back to Cody for another rodeo. He climbed into the chute again. The bull exploded out—and this time, he stayed on. Eight full seconds. The buzzer sounded, and those same ranch hands who’d been teasing him all week were shouting the loudest in the crowd.
That’s when it hit me: those people on the fence weren’t just bystanders. They represented the three kinds of people every one of us needs if we want to grow.
Mentors who guide us.
Accountability partners who keep us honest.
Encouragers who remind us why we’re still in the ring.
That corral became a leadership lesson I’ve carried ever since. Whether you’re leading a team, starting a business, or building a life, success rarely happens in isolation. It grows from a circle of people who challenge, support, and believe in you.
In my work as a communication and body language expert, I remind audiences that connection doesn’t happen by chance. It’s built through presence, curiosity, and consistency. The best communicators, the best leaders, and the best teams all have something in common: they make time to sit on each other’s fences.
So let me ask you:
Who’s sitting on the fence of your corral?
And are they giving you the mix of wisdom, accountability, and encouragement you need to ride out your next eight seconds?
