Elite-level sport is incredibly demanding. You have to train your ass off. Push yourself through early mornings, workouts you think you can't finish, striving for something you don't truly know if you can achieve. In the aspirational phase, financial and time pressures are added. The reality of many unfunded sportspeople is juggling a job or jobs with the same level of training as a full-time athlete. You just won’t make the progress that’s required without doing this work, but it has to be paid for. Regardless of your financial situation, so much is invested. The unfunded sportsperson is time-poor, and the funded sportsperson is meaning rich.

Speak to anyone outside of elite sport, and you quickly realise they don’t quite get it. And in truth, how could they? When your sport shapes every decision in your life, that bubble can become pretty intense. When to go to bed, what to eat, when to eat, should you go out and socialise or rest at home? Just a number of day-to-day considerations for elite sportspeople. When you add this on top of a training schedule (which may be planned out for the rest of the year), It’s easy to understand how and why hopes and dreams are built around the outcomes of our efforts.

I have many former training partners who could write an essay on this subject. Fear not; I’m not here to indulge in self-flagellation or personality bashing. It’s to share a really simple, perhaps obvious, insight I’ve had. It’s an insight which may be helpful for you too because it’s possible that you’ve got a problem with yourself too.

I think it’s fair to say that, like most Twenty year-olds, I had myself on my mind a lot. My life was focused 100% on me, who I was, what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go. My aspirations and dreams. As a result, I found my twenties to be very challenging. If you’d asked me then, I would have put that down to the elite-level sport I was doing. Maybe the 3 surgeries I’d had, failing to get selected to represent my country despite being in the UK All-time top 20, or the numerous failed relationships.

Can I share something with you? It’s a journey that I see again and again, and it breaks my heart.

It’s a journey that I’m so familiar with because it was my journey.

You started your sport because you loved it. The pure joy of doing it.

Seeing what I do is straightforward, especially with my work with sports people. I’m fortunate to have a host of testimonials demonstrating the change that has occurred through our work together. Quantifiably, for a few of my clients, this has meant;

Now I’m well aware that my viewpoint may be skewed. The sports people that come knocking at my door are invariably struggling in some shape or form.

“I just can’t stop winning, can you help me with that?” is yet to be the opening gambit from a potential client….

Now, this isn't definitive; I don't know for sure. But what if there is always a lesson in our life experiences if we're willing to listen? Well, I think it's fair to say that I haven't wholeheartedly been listening lately. I've taken on the dubious task of figuring out life—what I need to do, what I don't, what's a good idea, what isn't.

On a few occasions recently I've mistakenly been called a Sports Psychologist. Perhaps it's an easy mistake to make, I work mostly with sports people, I work in psychology but I can't stress this enough, I'm NOT a Sports Psychologist.

Why does this matter?

The above is part of a long list of things that I want my sons to know. And yet I know that I don’t need to teach them, I’ll explain.