Nathan Heddleston on why adaptability decides setbacks

Nathan Heddleston manages transportation and parking operations for University Hospitals and Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland. Before that, he coached track and field, and the discipline he learned as a young runner in East Liverpool, Ohio has shaped everything since.

Nathan Heddleston oversees transportation, parking, and valet operations in Cleveland, Ohio, working with clients that include University Hospitals and Case Western Reserve University. Before moving into operations management, he coached track and field at the University of Mount Union. He lives in Akron with his wife and children and continues to coach young athletes through local sports programs.

How did you get from coaching track to running parking operations?

I started running track and field young, in East Liverpool, Ohio. The sport taught me discipline and perseverance, and those habits stayed with me. I went to the University of Mount Union, earned a Bachelor of Arts in English and Education, then later a Master of Arts in Teaching and Learning from Nova Southeastern University with a 4.0 GPA. I took a coaching position and loved it. But at some point I chose to leave coaching for the corporate sector. The transition was disorienting at first. The skills that made me an effective coach, discipline, strategic planning, team leadership, did not translate automatically. I filled the gaps with management coursework and leaned on a mentor who had made a similar jump. What did not change was the standard I held myself to, and that consistency eventually carried me to Senior Manager.

What do people consistently get wrong about your work?

They assume the work is routine because the systems are invisible by design. When things run smoothly, nobody thinks about them. Reliability that clients and the public take for granted is the goal, but getting there is not simple. Every rollout is different. During one system upgrade spanning multiple sites, we ran into technical problems serious enough to threaten the initiative. I stayed calm, gathered the team, and we worked the problem until it was solved. The blend of strategic planning and hands-on problem solving means no two days look the same. What people miss is that invisible systems require constant attention.

Tell me about a time an injury-plagued season changed how you coach.

One season at Mount Union, injuries moved through the roster and morale dropped with them. Rather than let the losses define the year, I built personalized recovery plans for the athletes I worked with and adjusted training schedules around what each one could handle. The team came through it, and I came away with a conviction I would return to often: adaptability, more than raw talent, decides how a setback ends. A high school athlete who arrived without much confidence left with a personal best and a scholarship to run in college through personalized training and steady mentorship. That became evidence for me that patient, individualized attention produces results that generic instruction cannot.

Adaptability, more than raw talent, decides how a setback ends.

How do you handle client pushback when a new system has problems?

When early glitches in a new parking system frustrated clients, I avoided getting defensive. I set up meetings, walked through the specific complaints, and pulled clients directly into the troubleshooting process. That choice resolved the immediate issue and, more often than not, left the relationship stronger than before it started. The same approach applies to technical failures. You gather the team, you work the problem, and you do not treat it like chaos. It is just the next thing that needs solving.

What was the strangest thing you have seen on the job?

When I coached track and field, a stray dog wandered onto a meet and ran alongside my hurdler for the length of a race, weaving between competitors while officials scrambled to catch it. The hurdler stayed focused anyway and finished with a personal best. Years later, managing parking operations in Cleveland, I found myself coaxing a family of raccoons out of a facility in the middle of a system upgrade, patient and unhurried even as equipment hummed around me and a work crew waited. I tell both stories the same way: not as chaos survived, but as small proof of something steadier underneath it.

What keeps the work from feeling routine?

The blend of strategic planning and hands-on problem solving means no two days look quite the same. But there is also something less measurable than traffic flow or client satisfaction scores: the chance to work alongside a talented team and to mentor younger professionals coming up through the organization. It is a version of the same coaching instinct I first developed on a track, now applied to people learning a different kind of discipline entirely. That part of the work matters as much to me as the systems themselves.

I tell both stories the same way: not as chaos survived, but as small proof of something steadier underneath it.

How has mentorship shaped your career?

I leaned on a mentor who had made the jump from coaching to corporate before I did. He helped me see where my skills would transfer and where I needed to build new ones. Now I try to do the same for younger professionals in my organization and for young athletes I coach through local sports programs in Akron. The throughline is consistency: showing up for people, whether an athlete learning to run a race or a client learning a new parking system, is what actually builds trust over time. It is also the trait that has carried me furthest. Not talent or timing, but resilience built through repeated setbacks and the discipline to keep adjusting rather than walk away.

What does a successful parking rollout look like?

When I implemented a new parking management system at University Hospitals, the payoff showed up in smoother traffic flow and in feedback from staff and visitors who noticed the difference without needing to know exactly why the experience had improved. That is the standard. Systems that succeed are the ones nobody has to think about. If people notice your work, it usually means something went wrong. The goal is reliability that feels automatic, even though getting there requires constant attention behind the scenes.

How do you spend time with your family?

I am deliberate about how I spend time with my wife and children. I favor activities that double as movement: hikes, cycling trips, and a camping trip last summer to Hocking Hills State Park that mixed daytime trail walks with evenings by the fire. I play piano, a habit from childhood that has stayed with me. When I want to clear my head I run the trails of Cuyahoga Valley National Park, treating the run less as training than as a way to think. As a father I bring the same mix of structure and warmth that once defined my coaching, pushing my children toward new challenges while making clear I am behind them regardless of the outcome.

What have you learned from coaching young athletes in Akron?

I coach and mentor young athletes through local sports programs, and I treat it as an extension of my professional life rather than a departure from it. The same principles apply. You build personalized plans. You adjust when something is not working. You show up consistently. The young athletes I coach will keep aging out, replaced by new ones who need the same patient attention I once needed myself. That cycle reminds me that resilience is built rather than born, one adjusted plan and one rebuilt system at a time.

Resilience is built rather than born, one adjusted plan and one rebuilt system at a time.

What quality has carried you furthest in your career?

Consistency. Not talent or timing, but resilience built through repeated setbacks and the discipline to keep adjusting rather than walk away. Track and field taught me that early. Coaching reinforced it. Operations management tests it every day. The distance between a track in East Liverpool and a parking garage in Cleveland is not obvious on paper, but for me it has turned out to be the same line, followed without a break. The systems I manage will keep expanding, the rollouts will keep needing revision, but the standard I measure by stays the same.

If you were starting your career today, what would you do differently?

I would seek out a mentor sooner. The early transition from coaching to corporate was disorienting because the skills did not translate automatically. I eventually found someone who had made that jump before me, and it made a real difference. If I had reached out earlier, I could have filled the gaps faster. Beyond that, I would not change much. The path from coaching to operations was not obvious, but the discipline I learned young applied everywhere. I still measure my days by the same standard I once measured my splits.

What stays true in ten years?

Showing up consistently. Systems will change, technologies will evolve, and parking operations will look different than they do now. But the trait that builds trust, whether with a client, a team member, or a young athlete, will still be consistency. People remember who kept showing up when things got hard. That has been true on every track I coached and in every parking structure I have managed, and I do not see it changing. The work may shift, but the standard does not.