The Weight of Good Intentions

By: Greg Koch

This morning I organized our monthly group run for my friends at The 437 Project — a cause that’s personal and deeply meaningful to me. Each month, I ask everyone who shows up to share a “win” from the past 30 days. It’s simple, but it always sparks thoughtful conversation. With this group — a blend of leaders, doers, and community-minded folks — the dialogue is rich and energizing.
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Lately, I’ve been asking myself a similar question: What does a win really look like?
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This past month, one of my biggest wins came from letting go. I had to be honest with myself about my role with The 437 Project. As much as I care, I took on more than I could reasonably give, and I wasn’t showing up in the way the project deserved. That realization hurt. I don’t like saying no. I don’t like stepping back. But for my mental health and to better serve the mission, I had to recalibrate and get clear on where my skills are most impactful. That wasn’t easy. It took some soul-searching, but I know it was the right call.

I saw another kind of win in my role as Board Chair of Downtown Sioux Falls, Inc. — a milestone moment that’s been more than a decade in the making. On May 1st, new Downtown parking changes go into effect, the result of years of discussion and months of concentrated outreach. We held forums, did research, sent surveys, knocked on doors, and engaged with our development committee, retail roundtable, and BID board. It was a collaborative process, built on feedback and community input.

Still, when the announcement went public from the city, a familiar response surfaced. “Nobody told us.” “They pulled the rug out.” “This will ruin business.” I get it — change is hard, especially when it affects something as tangible (and emotional) as parking. But this experience reminded me that many folks only engage after the fact. It’s frustrating, sure — but it also shows how much work we still have to do to make engagement feel accessible and meaningful to more people.

And I see those same patterns in the running community — especially at 605 Running Company.

I’m proud of the work we do. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard right now. During the week, the shop feels quieter. Our races — and many other local races — don’t fill up the way they used to. And the doors that once opened easily now take a lot more knocking. New coaches, clubs, races, and timers are popping up all the time — but the audience isn’t really growing. The pie just keeps getting sliced thinner.

What makes this difficult is knowing that most people entering this space have good intentions. They care about runners. They want to give back. But whether we realize it or not, when we act in silos — without collaborating, without aligning — we dilute the impact. We compete for limited attention, time, and resources. We all end up working harder for smaller results.

At the same time, I’ve had to reckon with a hard truth: doing it the right way isn’t cheap. We invest in great brands, permits, insurance, paid staff, timing equipment, photography — because we want our stores and events to be professional, accessible, and memorable. But that all costs money. When foot traffic and registrations are down, and partnerships are slower to land, the pressure mounts.

But I don’t share all this to complain. I share it to invite something better.

Looking Ahead: From Silos to Bridges
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In May, my focus is clear: bridge building.

• I want to grow an ecosystem where every type of runner — competitive, casual, new, or returning — feels welcome and seen.
• I want to connect with other race directors, coaches, and community leaders to ask: How can we grow the audience together?
• I want to reimagine how we fundraise for nonprofits — with shared goals, broader storytelling, and smarter alignment.
• I want to reinvest in the core of what we do: helping people move their bodies, connect with others, and feel like they belong.
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I don't have all the answers. I also make mistakes which I'm willing to own. I’m here to contribute what I can, as clearly and sustainably as possible. That might mean smaller commitments, but it also means stronger ones. I want to serve the community — and be part of the community — in ways that are real, collaborative, and energizing.
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If you’re reading this and thinking, I feel this too, then let’s talk. Let’s partner. Let’s build something better — not just for today, but for the long run.

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