Today is World Mental Health Day, which feels like the right moment to pause and reflect — not just as an athlete, but as someone deeply involved in mental health and wellbeing every day.
Through my work with The Better Health Generation, leading the Access to Work Mental Health Support Service (ATW MHSS) in Scotland, and my voluntary role with Andy’s Man Club, I see the impact of mental health challenges across every walk of life — from workplaces and leadership teams to local community groups.
What connects all of it is this simple truth: showing up matters.
Sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do is simply walk through the door — to speak to a mental health professional through a service like Access to Work Mental Health Support Service, or to join a peer group like Andy’s Man Club and say, “I’m struggling.” I’ve seen men who walk into those rooms for the first time, unsure if they’ll speak, and walk out feeling heard for the first time in years. That’s powerful.
Strength isn’t about having it all together — it’s about being honest, human, and real. And that same ethos carries into leadership and endurance sport. Whether it’s showing up for a colleague, a team, or a 5am start line, it’s about being present, being kind, and being consistent — especially on the days when it’s hardest to do so.
When You’re Not Feeling It
Last Sunday, I lined up for a small Sprint Triathlon — nothing dramatic by my usual standards. No Ironman distance, no alpine climbs, no drama. Just a local, end-of-season event to close out the year.
But it turned out to be one of the hardest races I’ve done.
A few days before, I’d had a particularly annoying flare-up of Lyme disease. For those who don’t know, Lyme is a strange and unpredictable condition. There’s plenty written about the initial infection, but far less about the ongoing after-effects — the fatigue, joint pain, brain fog, and fluctuating energy that seem to come and go without reason.
I’m one of the fortunate ones. I’ve read stories of people bed-bound for months or years, battling symptoms that make everyday life almost impossible. In comparison, I’m lucky that I can still train, compete, and recover — even if it takes a little longer than it used to. Over the years, I’ve found that training keeps most of the symptoms at bay. Movement really is medicine.
So when race morning arrived, I felt rough but determined. I’d committed. And as with most things in life, once I’d said I’d do it, I wasn’t backing out.
Knowing Yourself When Things Get Tough
There’s a quote by Leslie Grossman that came to mind as I stood at the start line:
“When you’re feeling your worst, that’s when you get to know yourself the best.”
I’ve always liked that. It’s in the moments when we feel least ready that we discover what we’re really made of. It’s easy to bring your best when you feel fresh, motivated, and on top form. But what about when you’re tired, unwell, or distracted? When the conditions are against you, and the last thing you want to do is push forward?
That’s when character shows up.
In racing terms, it’s when your legs are heavy before you’ve even started the bike leg. When your swim felt like treacle, and you’ve barely got the energy to clip in. When the people around you — those speed demons who make it look effortless — are flying past, and you have to remind yourself to run your own race.
In leadership, it’s when your diary is overflowing, the emails keep coming, and you’re being pulled in a dozen directions — but people still need you to show up, lead with compassion, and make good decisions.
Racing Your Own Race
Triathlon is a brilliant metaphor for leadership. There’s always someone faster, fitter, or better prepared. You can’t control the competition. What you can control is how you respond, how you pace yourself, and how you adapt when things don’t go to plan.
This particular event drew a fast field. The kind of athletes who glide through transitions, maintain perfect form, and seem to carry impossible speed without breaking a sweat. It’s hard not to get caught up in that. But triathlon — and life — is about pacing yourself.
I race using a blend of feel and data. My watch and bike computer give me a dashboard of how hard I’m working — heart rate, cadence, power, pace — but the real gauge is how it feels. Over the years, I’ve learned that the numbers are only useful when combined with awareness. Some days, your Zone 3 effort feels like Zone 5. Other days, you can fly without touching the red line.
On Sunday, the data told me what I already knew: I wasn’t at my best. But I also knew that finishing would take grit, patience, and a little bit of stubbornness. So I leaned into that.
Because bringing your best doesn’t always mean peak performance. Sometimes, it means doing the best you can with what you’ve got — today.
Leadership Through a Different Lens
I often talk about leadership as a lived practice, not a job title. It’s how you show up when things are difficult. It’s how you treat people when you’re under pressure. It’s whether you hold your standards when no one’s watching.
There’s a misconception that great leaders, like great athletes, are endlessly motivated — that they’re always “on”. The truth is, no one is. Everyone has off days. Everyone has moments of doubt, fatigue, and frustration. The difference is how you respond when you’re in that space.
As a leader, “bringing your best” on those days might mean:
- Being transparent that you’re having a tough day, and asking for help.
- Choosing to listen deeply when you’d rather withdraw.
- Staying calm when things around you are chaotic.
- Showing empathy when you’re running on empty.
It’s not about perfection. It’s about consistency, integrity, and intent.
The same is true in sport. You don’t control the weather, your competitors, or the random mechanicals that happen mid-race. You control your mindset, your effort, and your reaction.
The Importance of Coaching and Trust
As I waited for the Norseman ballot results this week — one of the most iconic and demanding triathlons in the world — I knew that if my name came up, I’d need help. I’ve been self-coaching for years, applying the same principles I use in leadership development: goal-setting, reflection, accountability, and adaptability.
This time, my name didn’t come up. I didn’t get a Norseman space for 2026. It Wasn’t for me this year unfortunately (unless someone knows of a way to get a space 😉 )
But that’s okay — because my Mission Possible 2026 journey is still very much alive. I’m now hoping to line up for Celtman or Swissman, two equally incredible and gruelling races that capture the same spirit of endurance, community, and raw determination.
To truly bring my best there, I’ll need structure, insight, and an external perspective. More importantly, I’ll need a coach I can trust — someone who understands ADHD, the dopamine-seeking drive that can lead to overtraining, and the constant pull towards “more”.
My Mission Possible – 2026
So, as I look ahead to 2026, my Mission Possible is about far more than racing. It’s about using the endurance arena to open up conversations around mental health, resilience, and leadership under pressure. Inspired by what the Andy’s Man Club team achieved this year, I want to continue that message — bringing awareness, compassion, and courage into spaces where they’re often left out.
Because sport has an incredible ability to connect people. It gives us a language of challenge, grit, and perseverance that everyone can relate to. And if sharing my journey — the good, the bad, and the wobbly bits in between — helps even one person to speak up or keep going, then every mile will be worth it.
Final thought
You don’t need to feel your best to be your best. You just need to keep showing up — with honesty, compassion, and the belief that small, consistent steps still count.
That’s leadership. That’s resilience. And that’s life.
