Note: This guest post is from Abbey Harlow, host of the Rural Nonprofit Leader Summit beginning October 20. Registration is free!

This winter, a nonprofit leader in a rural area told me that his list of prospective foundations was running dry. His organization has spent most of a decade renovating its building, winning the same facilities grant three times.

To add some cushion, they’d pieced together a long string of $2,000 to $5,000 grants. He’s good at this, but he didn’t know where else to look. Funders kept telling him the same thing: more organizations were applying, so the competition was increasing.

Rural Rule 1: The funding pie is small, and everyone brought a fork

In a typical metro area, a development director can build a list of dozens of prospective funders. In a rural county, the same handful of regional funders appear on every organization’s list. When federal dollars get slashed, bigger organizations start applying for the small grants rural groups have counted on for years.

Now there’s a line at the pie table, and someone from the city brought a really big fork.

Rural Rule 2: Everyone wears every hat

A lot of nonprofit training assumes that someone else is available to help: for example, delegating work  to communications staff or a finance committee that meets on a regular schedule.

In a lot of rural organizations, the executive director might write the grant, run the program, recruit the volunteers, and fix the toilet before the board meeting. Advice that’s built for specialists or department heads requires this part-time plumber to stretch even more.

When there’s no one else to do the work, the board often steps in, especially with newer or very small nonprofits. I talk with boards who can’t make time for a strategic conversation because every meeting is filled with questions about operations. One food shelf board explained that they were making every administrative decision, which left no room to step back and plan for what their neighbors needed.

Rural Rule 3: The nearest peer is two counties away

My mom recently described her drive home as “the one with two old stone walls.” No street names included, just landmarks she’s passed a thousand times. In rural areas, everyone has a route like that.

But rural nonprofit leadership doesn’t come with a clear route. When something goes sideways, there’s no well-worn, familiar path, because you’re often the first person in your community to drive it.

I live in Vermont, and our “big city” of Burlington has about 44,000 residents and sits in the northern part of the state. Naturally, that’s where most statewide events happen.

A while back, I led a workshop for a free nonprofit learning series in the southern half – and the room was packed. One woman told me, “We just can’t pay to go to conferences, even the smaller ones.” Another was thrilled that nobody had to drive to Burlington.

When the learning opportunity is hours away or costs more than your organization can justify, you learn to do without. You might figure it out on your own, piece by piece, with nobody living nearby who’s already solved the same problem.

Burnout: rural edition

Put all this together and you get a predictable result: Smart, capable people running at 110 mph for years, thinking that this is just normal. It might be normal, but it shouldn’t be. It’s neither healthy nor sustainable.

Rural leaders don’t need another webinar telling them to delegate. They need peers who understand their region without a map. They need to hear and accept that rest – self-care, time off, whatever you want to call it – must be near the top of the to-do list.

Introducing the Rural Nonprofit Leader Summit

That’s why I’m especially excited to host this new event. It’s free and virtual, October 20-23, featuring more than thirty speakers who know rural nonprofit work inside and out.

Virtual equals no travel budget and no two-hour drive. Each session is available for 48 hours, so you can watch after evening chores or first thing in the morning.

You’ll land in a community of people who already know that the board treasurer is also the guy who plows the parking lot when the snow flies. If you lead a rural nonprofit, come find your people!