Unleash the Monkey Army

If it's your first time here, welcome. The regular readers among you will know that I need little reason for introspection but recently, two different questions, in two different settings, have given me licence to roll my sleeves up and have a delve in my mind.  The first one was specifically about the indoor rowing and wasn't just directed at me: "What inspires you to row faster/longer/stronger/better?" Then, more recently "How do you do it? How do you do what you do, the way you do it and stay so in control?"  The second struck me as amusing. I was being asked by a prominent extrovert, how I stay so reserved and buttoned down, all the time. I've never thought of being reserved and hard work as something to aspire to. But then, that sums me up. And, not just me, we all take too lightly the things that come easily. The familiar.  But I owe the person who asked the opportunity for something more than the glib response I gave. I'...

People are great. They are a source of inspiration that can provide fuel for your endeavours and a boost when your motivation flags. They can provide feedback to help you learn, a shoulder to lean on when you are tired and a sense of validation of your efforts. People are crap. They leech the energy out of you. They snipe and bitch at you, belittling your efforts, desperate to suck you down into the mire of their woeful, dismal, Stygian existence. Uh oh, looks like your correspondent is full of the joys of the season. It might just be festive blues but there is also something on which I have been reflecting for a while. In sport, we recognise the effects of a good team. Even our individual sports "stars" are swift to acknowledge the work of the team of people it takes to get them there. Indeed, that has been one of the salient points of the crises that have beset cycling in recent years - the scale of the cheating and the number of people involved to make it happen. A...

There's a lot of macho imagery that swirls around the word courage. The word resonates with us on a primal level. Our receptors fire with screen reels of John Wayne; or frantically fluttering pages of Boy's Own or Commando; or the sight of a group staring down a wild beast. But I'm not thinking about those this time. There's a much less dramatic demonstration of it that occurs every day, in a million ways, and it has no need for people to enter a burning building. It's the courage to do the little things, to stand and live by your values. The courage to not surrender to disinclination because you could, or because you know that others would. Elite performance is the sum of the occasions when you exert your will in the face of boredom, or in refusing to sacrifice longer-term momentum for titillation or gratification. You might be an absolute game-winner but if you are the sort of person who is absent for 90% of the match you need to know that your place, and by ex...

I had started to write an open letter to my rugby lads, urging them on over the final furlong of the season. I had thought that it would included the line about their season titrating down to a series of moments like these, junctions along your timeline where you chose your heading. And then it occurred that it might seem a bit over the top. Particularly when you consider that actually life is a succession of choices. Some are monumental, towering over your life like a skyscraper in a campsite. Others are colossal but take a little digging to find, most of their bulk lurks under the surface. Then there are the small, everyday, apparently run-of-the-mill choices which we make all of the time. Many of these barely cause a flicker of concern, so habitual are the decisions. Yet the sum total of all of these leads us to where we stand today. Granted, at some points the options may seem so heavily weighted to one side or the other as to give the appearance of no choice but, just because...