Fail Forward: The Art of What’s Possible
Heidi Foster (LA’03) knew something was wrong when she woke up on what should have been a normal Saturday morning.
She tried to get out of bed, but there was a severe pain in her eye. Eventually, her daughter found her. Foster had suffered a stroke.
In the days that followed, the former Purdue softball player, mother and business leader suddenly couldn’t walk on her own. She struggled to put sentences together and lost vision in one eye. Recovery would require her to relearn things she had once done without thinking.
But the mindset she would need wasn't entirely new. Foster had spent much of her life learning how to get back up.
Learning to fail forward
Foster was 17 when she left Southern California for West Lafayette with a suitcase, backpack and one-way plane ticket.
She had played softball since age six, and by high school, colleges across the country were recruiting her. Purdue wasn't initially somewhere she imagined herself. When the recruiting letter arrived, she wasn't even sure where the university was.
Then she visited campus, sat in on a class and met the softball team. By the time she returned to California, she had made her decision.
Purdue challenged Foster almost immediately. A first-generation college student, she had never seen snow, was thousands of miles from her family and was adjusting to the demands of being a Division I athlete and college student. Her freshman year was difficult, but she was determined to stay.
Softball reinforced a lesson that would follow her long after she left the field: Failure was inevitable. What mattered was what happened next.
“I failed more than I was successful, if you look at the stats,” Foster said. “So I had to fail forward, fail fast and get up and reset.”
In the classroom, sociology and communication taught Foster to understand people with different experiences and perspectives. She learned to ask questions, communicate with different audiences and collaborate with others, skills she didn't yet realize would become central to her career.
“I never went into the classes going, ‘Oh, I’m going to be a senior vice president of a collision company,’” she said.
Today, Foster is exactly that, serving as senior vice president of operations for Crash Champions, a national automotive collision repair company.
Leading with people
Collision repair wasn't part of Foster's post-Purdue plan. When she first visited a facility, she questioned whether she belonged in the male-dominated industry. But she soon discovered a business centered on people and relationships, skills she had developed at Purdue.
As she advanced, Foster learned to channel her competitive drive differently, shifting her focus from outperforming others to helping them succeed.
That approach now shapes how she develops employees. Through initiatives such as Women of Crash Champions and the Associate Service Advisor Program, Foster helps create opportunities for others to build confidence, develop their skills and pursue careers they may not have considered.
“Connections and relationships are what made me successful,” Foster said. “I wouldn’t even be this close to where I am right now if I didn’t lean into the connections and relationships that I have.”
She sees a direct connection between that approach and her liberal arts education.
“Every single day I use something that I learned in my classes, in my preparation for tests, my working within my team, working with a group in a class,” Foster said.
Those lessons became even more important when Foster faced a challenge unlike anything in her career.
The art of what’s possible
After her stroke, Foster initially believed leaving the hospital would mean getting back to normal. Instead, she returned home dependent on others. She needed a home nurse, had to be lifted out of bed and struggled to communicate.
Progress came unevenly. There were good days and days when she fell, cried or made no progress at all. At first, Foster mostly shared her victories until her mother challenged her.
“She said, ‘Heidi, you have got to stop being strong for everyone. You gotta show the bad days too,’” Foster recalled.
Her daughter, Taylor, was there for both. She walked with Foster as she relearned how to move and joined her for exercises. Eventually, those walks became bike rides, skateboarding and trips to the beach. Foster couldn't drive for about a year, creating an unusual role reversal as Taylor learned to drive while her mother still relied on her for help.
About two months into recovery, Foster began thinking about what Taylor and others were seeing.
“I realized how many people were inspired,” Foster said. “And then I was like, well, then I want to show them the art of what’s possible.”
Foster made significant progress with walking and talking during her first year of recovery, but the stroke left lasting effects, including permanent nerve damage on her left side. Recovery has remained an ongoing process, requiring her to adapt while accepting that some things may never return to how they were before.
“You need a village that’s going to help you pull through,” Foster said. “But you have to be the one that is that driving force.”
For Foster, failing forward once meant resetting after a bad at-bat. In her career, it meant embracing unfamiliar opportunities and learning to help others succeed.
After her stroke, resilience took on another meaning. It wasn't about being strong every day or doing everything herself. It meant accepting help, acknowledging the difficult days and choosing to keep moving forward, even when progress looked different than she expected.
That's the art of what's possible.