When I finish with a live sketching session, it stinks in there.

I don’t mean the drawings stink.

I mean that I physically smell not so amazing. I’ve been sweating for hours, holding lunges and squats in positions that let me reach every corner of those massive boards. Moving around on floors. Kneeling on marble stages.

By the time I pack up my markers, I can smell myself. And I’m almost surprised every time it happens.

This isn’t what people picture when they think about someone drawing cool pictures at live events.

But, to me, this is what the work actually requires.

The physical demands go beyond just fitness. It’s about mobility, yes, but also about systems. Having the right tools in the right places. Setting up yourself, both you and your workspace, so your body can move efficiently for hours without breaking down.

Drawing isn’t a contact sport, but it also isn’t just whipping out some markers and calling it a day, either.

The IBM Moment

Flash back to years ago, I was drawing at an IBM event. Seventeen markers in my hands at once, trying to switch colors quickly, and capture ideas as they emerged.

Markers started falling everywhere. Rolling across the stage. Under tables. Into the crowd.

It was a mess. Unprofessional. Distracting. I never wanted to work that way again.

So I built a system. A tool belt which holsters my markers, arranged by color family. Muscle memory means I can grab the right marker without looking.

No fumbling. No dropping. No interrupting the flow of the session.

The gear matters because the work matters.

I’ve seen other practitioners use messenger bags full of markers, or lay them out on tables, or hold them between their fingers. For me, those might work fine… until I’m moving fast, covering ground, switching between standing and kneeling positions dozens of times in an hour.

Then the system breaks down.

Towel Knee Pads

Let’s skip to another time when it became clear that the right equipment mattered: four and a half days at a Keller Williams Family Reunion conference in 2023. Twenty thousand people. Nineteen foam boards to fill.

The stage was marble. Beautiful to look at, brutal to kneel on.

By day two, my knees were destroyed.

So I improvised. I texted the stage manager and asked if she could grab me some hotel room towels (don’t tell Marriott), we rubber-banded them around my knees. Made it through the rest of the conference that way. It looked ridiculous, but for the event it worked and it saved my knees.

When I got home, I invested in professional knee pads. The kind construction workers use. To me, doing this work seriously, means showing up with the right tools even if I look a little silly running to the bathroom on breaks.

Not just for comfort. For endurance. For the ability to hold those positions without my body complaining non-stop before the session ends.

The physical preparation matters. Not because it makes me special, but because the work demands it.

I’d rather stink than be sore.

Training means my legs don’t hurt afterward. Toolbelts make sure I can grab what I need. Kneepads mean I can walk afterwards.

What Drawing Looks Like

Quality work has an infrastructure most people never see.

For me, it’s tool belts and knee pads.

For you, it might be the research done before the pitch. The backup systems that prevent failures. The physical setup that lets you work for hours without breaking down.

Every piece of quality work has a supporting cast of decisions, tools, and preparations that never make it into the portfolio.

Mine happens to include knee pads and marker holsters (and extra deodorant). Yours probably includes things just as unglamorous, but equally essential.

What’s the invisible infrastructure behind your best work?

And are you investing in it the way you invest in the visible parts?

The sweat isn’t optional. Neither is the system that makes the work sustainable.

I might stink, but this is me trying to make sure the work doesn’t.

Grateful you are here,

Wade