Jacob Riis once wrote about a stonecutter standing in front of a rock, hammer in hand. He strikes it again and again with no visible change. No crack. No sign the rock is going to break. Then on the 100th hit, the stone splits clean in two. But it isn’t the 100th blow that breaks it. It was the 99 before.

The cumulative effort. The work that looked useless until it suddenly wasn’t.

That story feels especially relevant right now, in a time where fast, cheap success is everywhere—and deeply tempting. We’re encouraged to chase the big win, the loud moment, the shortcut. But focusing too much on the payoff makes it easy to resent the process. You start to overlook the small wins because they don’t feel like wins at all. They feel like delays.

So much is required to become who you want to be. And most of it is quiet.

Results aren’t immediate because the repetitions are doing something you can’t see yet. The reps are the work. You have to allow yourself patience. Real patience, not the performative kind. Because how could you possibly be ready for the big moment if you haven’t mastered the small ones first? The small moments are what make the big ones possible.

I talk to so many young journalists who want the big job immediately. And I get it. When you don’t have it yet, it can start to feel like failure. But nobody woke up with the big job. It only looks that way because people don’t broadcast their lows. Every person you admire has been hitting the rock for years.

Before anyone ever saw my YouTube videos, I had written more than forty blog posts that barely anyone read. But those posts taught me how to think, how to write, how to articulate a point. I interviewed countless people before any conversation I had went viral. I only learned how to ask the right questions because I asked so many wrong ones first.

I interviewed student managers for the Illinois basketball team before I was ever ready to interview Kevin Durant. I covered Jalen Brunson and Jayson Tatum when they were fifteen years old, standing in high school gyms that felt insignificant at the time. Those moments didn’t feel important then, but they grew into friendships, trust, and professional relationships that later became some of my biggest moments. I had to hit that rock.

There were times my videos got ten views. Ten. But I needed those ten people to understand who I was talking to. What resonated. What didn’t. Things are helping even when it seems like they aren’t.

That’s the hardest part to trust.

It’s so easy to ask yourself: Does this matter? Is this meaningful? Should I move on to a different rock? But there is nothing more special about successful people (despite what they want you to think). They just kept going. They kept hitting the same rock for a long time. Even when it didn’t feel fun. Especially when it didn’t feel fun.

We’ve been tricked into believing growth is loud. But growth actually lives in silence. Success is doing the little things at a high level for a long time.

And sometimes, part of the process is learning which rocks aren’t meant to crack.

I wanted and didn’t receive things like Forbes 30 Under 30. I wanted to work at ESPN because I thought that was the Mecca. I’ve been nominated for two Emmys and I lost both. Some things your hammer is supposed to miss. My rock still cracked open. Just not the way I thought it would.

Right now, I’m in Las Vegas hosting the NBA Cup with Prime. Thirty teams start the season chasing a mid-year championship. Some fans dismissed it because it isn’t the Finals. But the players understand something important: you don’t win the big thing without surviving the smaller ones first. Group play matters. Knockout rounds matter. These wins matter. They’re proof of concept. They’re preparation. They’re belief.

They’re pounding the rock.

Sure, the stonecutter could have tried one massive, impatient blow, but the rock would have shattered. Instead, the careful accumulation of strikes created a clean break. Precision over spectacle.

That’s how real progress works.

You are always moving forward, even when you can’t see it. Even when it feels boring. Even when it feels empty. Fall deeply in love with how you get there.

Keep hitting the rock.

The small wins are big.

For the NBA Cup Semifinals, I wore this incredible Pucci set styled by my wonderful stylist, Bec Gross. My husband got these Dolce & Gabbana shoes for me, and I had been waiting for the perfect moment to wear them. I never imagined pairing them with this set because I (wrongfully) tend to be a little too matchy-matchy. The contrast—black against gold, yellow, and brown—initially threw me. It felt bold in a way I wasn’t immediately comfortable with.

But then Bec pointed out that the jewels in the shoes echoed the exact tones in the set. Once she said it, I couldn’t unsee it. So I trusted her and went for it.

I make a lot of loud, expressive fashion choices on air, but this pairing felt different. It pushed me just outside my usual comfort zone, and I’ll admit I was a little insecure about how it would come together. But it ended up becoming one of my favorite looks I’ve ever worn. We were in Vegas, after all. I wanted to shine!

I could’ve played it safe and gone with the brown shoe. The look would’ve worked, but it wouldn’t have been as memorable. This was a reminder that the choices that make you hesitate are often the ones that set you apart. And those choices are easier to make when you have a team that believes in you and a stylist who encourages you to lean all the way in.

You’re only as good as the people around you. And little me, the girl who loved playing dress-up, would’ve been very proud of this one.

These aren’t the exact Dolce & Gabbana shoes, but here are some great slingback rhinestone options that capture a similar vibe without the splurge

The Attico Grid Sling Back Pump

Elora Studded Slingback Pumps In Black

Aquazzura Sequined Suede Slingback Pumps

Zal Pumps

Charles Barkley once told me a simple but important philosophy: “If you go on TV and try to be perfect, you’ll have a bunch of people that like you and a bunch of people that don’t. If you go on TV and be yourself, you’ll have a bunch of people that like you and a bunch of people that don’t. But the numbers are about the same.”

What he described, to me, was a choice. An active one. One is a freedom from others and the other one is a betrayal of yourself.

Who do you want to be?

I consider this quote every time I go to work. It’s what I come back to after any negative comment.

Some days I simply consider it when I wake up.

It applies to everything.

It has helped me be present in my career. To release myself from approval. I wanted to pass it along.