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I was listening to a DOAC podcast recently with Kevin Hart, and as he told his story, something occurred to me. We often hear people say things like “oh, he’s alright, he’s funny enough” or “well, she’s just built like an athlete,” as if talent or natural attributes alone explains success. But when you actually listen to the full story – the graft, the commitment, the setbacks – you realise how much more there is beneath the surface.

I’ve always loved biographies for this exact reason. Not the tabloid stuff, but the real journeys. I get a sense of inspiration from them and the same goes for podcasts: there are so many gems tucked into people’s experiences if we listen closely. The more I listen, the more convinced I am that when someone makes it (whether as a comedian, sprinter, writer or whatever) we should let them shine, rather than diminish their achievements.

It reminded me of Sir Ken Robinson’s idea of finding your “element” – the place where your natural talent and your passion meet. Once you find it, everything changes.

The Full Story Behind Success

Kevin Hart didn’t become Kevin Hart because he was “quite funny.” He became who he is because he chased his dream with an almost unreasonable level of commitment. The same is true for athletes like Siya Kolisi. Yes, he’s strong, fast and skilful, but countless people have those traits. What sets Kolisi apart is what you don’t see: the resilience, the leadership forged through hardship, and the decision to go all-in on what mattered most to him.

Biographies and deep interviews often reveal exactly this. Beneath every “overnight success” is someone who kept showing up long before anyone knew their name. Sir Ken Robinson spoke about this beautifully: many people never discover their element simply because they never look for it. We assume talent should announce itself loudly. But more often, it’s discovered through curiosity, trying things out, noticing what comes alive in us.

Let People Shine – It’s Not a Competition

There’s a subtle habit many of us fall into: downplaying the achievements of others. We say things like “she had good genes” or “he got lucky.” These comments seem harmless, but they take away from the reality that someone found their element and had the courage to pursue it.

Here’s the key realisation I had: If you’re not meant to be a singer, don’t pull down those who are. Let them revel in their element. And then go and find yours.

Other people’s success is not a threat to us. It’s a mirror. A reminder of what’s possible when someone discovers what truly makes them tick and commits to it wholeheartedly.

Finding Your Own Element

Over the years – in coaching, rugby, business and life – I’ve noticed a pattern. The people who flourish are not necessarily the most talented. They’re the ones who get clear about what matters and lean into it with consistency and heart.

Here are a few ways to start uncovering your own element:

Make space for reflection – Most people are too busy to notice what energises them. Create pockets of quiet. Ask yourself what you’d do even if no one noticed.

Experiment without judgement – You often don’t know what you’re good at until you try. Give yourself permission to explore: sport, writing, organising, mentoring, creating, leading.

Pay attention to the feeling – Your element usually brings a sense of ease. Not that it’s effortless, but it feels right. You feel engaged, curious, alive.

Accept that the path is rarely linear – Your interests will evolve. Your priorities will shift. That’s normal. Your element might look different at 18, 38 or 58.

Use it to serve others – Our gifts are meant to be given away. For me, what truly makes me tick is seeing people realise their own potential and watching them take flight, fully aware of their innate abilities.

Conclusion

We’re all put here with gifts, not necessarily the gifts of a Kevin Hart or a Siya Kolisi, but gifts nonetheless. It’s not selfish to share them; it’s selfish not to. When we celebrate others, we give ourselves permission to step into our own element.

So let people shine. Let their stories inspire you. And then do the real work: discover what makes you come alive and pursue it with heart and soul.

That’s where flight begins.

It’s often said that we overestimate what we can achieve in a year but underestimate what we can achieve in a decade. I’ve found that to be true in ways I never expected. When I look back at the last ten years of my life, I’m frequently astonished by how far I’ve travelled – especially when measured through the eyes of my decade-younger self. The things that once felt distant, unlikely or even out of reach now form the very fabric of my daily life.

Yet what’s interesting is that even shorter stretches of time can hold enormous transformation. A couple of years, a single year, even six focused months can take us to a place that feels entirely new. Progress compounds more quickly than we think. The shifts in perspective, the habits we build, the courage we gather, the decisions we commit to – they add up quietly, steadily and sometimes quite beautifully.

But here’s the truth I return to again and again: none of it would have happened if I hadn’t started. No growth, no breakthroughs, no progress (big or small) would exist without that first step.

This idea shows up in The Way You See It, where I explore a quote from Marie Anne de Vichy-Chamrond, marquise du Deffand. She wrote:

“The distance is nothing; it is only the first step that is difficult.”

Every time I revisit this line, it hits me with the same clarity. The hard part is rarely the journey itself; it’s the moment we commit to it. The moment we decide to do something bold, new, uncomfortable or unknown. Starting requires vulnerability. It requires energy. It asks us to confront the resistance that keeps us still. But the moment we move, even by a fraction, we find that the next step becomes easier… and then the next… and then the next.

As we near the end of 2025, this quote feels especially relevant.

Around this time of year, many of us begin looking ahead to 2026. We start mapping out plans, setting intentions, imagining the changes we want to make or the goals we want to pursue. There’s something hopeful about this forward-looking energy, and I’m absolutely here for it.

But there’s also a quiet trap hidden within it.

The moment we start thinking about the new year, we risk unconsciously writing off the time we still have left in the current one. We slip into the mindset of “I’ll start in January” or “next year will be my year,” forgetting that we have six whole weeks available to us right now, time that is just as valid and just as full of possibility as anything waiting on the other side of 31 December.

Six weeks may not sound like much, but remember: transformation doesn’t need twelve months to begin. Six weeks is enough to start a habit that will carry you into 2026 with momentum. It’s enough to tidy up loose ends that will otherwise weigh heavily on your mind next year. It’s enough to face something you’ve been avoiding, to take a single important step, to build confidence or to create clarity.

Six weeks can change your trajectory more than you think.

If you’re feeling behind, or stuck, or low on motivation that’s okay. You don’t need to overhaul your life in the final stretch of the year. You simply need to begin the thing you’ve been meaning to begin. Your load will be lighter, your mind clearer and your next year better for it.

Start now and you’ll thank yourself in January.

Start now and you’ll walk into the new year already in motion.

Start now and you’ll experience the truth of du Deffand’s words: once you’ve taken that first step, the distance matters far less.

If you’re looking to make the most of the rest of this year, and even more of next year get in touch. We can explore whether working together might help you take that first step or build momentum for the journey you want to create.

There’s still time in 2025. Still space. Still opportunity.

And you’re only one step away from it.

The 2025–26 Premiership Women’s Rugby season kicked off in style at The Stoop last night, as Harlequins hosted Loughborough Lightning. On a fresh, clear evening the ground was alive with anticipation. Four thousand fans came through the gates, the atmosphere crackled with excitement as the players ran out for the first match of the new campaign.

For me, it was a particularly special night. Thirteen U12 and U14 girls from Sutton & Epsom RFC, many of whom I’ve had the privilege of coaching, took to the pitch as the flag-waving guard of honour. Watching them stand tall under the floodlights, proudly representing their club was a moment that will stay with me for a long time. You could see it on their faces – the wonder, the joy and perhaps a spark of what’s possible.

It felt like a night that marked more than just the start of a season. Around 30% of the crowd were first-time visitors to a PWR game, surely a sign of how fast the women’s game is growing. Following hot on the heels of the Women’s Rugby World Cup there’s a sense that women’s rugby is stepping into a new era of visibility and momentum.

This season, every PWR fixture will be broadcast across three platforms, a milestone that reflects both the increasing demand and the commitment to make the game accessible to all. More eyes on the game means more hearts captured, and that can only be a good thing for players and supporters alike.

From a grassroots perspective, the energy feels different this year. More girls are joining, more families are turning up to watch and the belief that the women’s game deserves equal attention is stronger than ever.

It’s no time to be complacent. Progress needs nurturing, but right now it feels like everyone is leaning in. The sport is on an upward curve and the passion behind it is infectious.

As I watched those young girls waving their flags last night, I couldn’t help but think: this is what inspiration looks like.

I was talking to my coach the other day about the ups and downs of life. We found ourselves circling around the idea that everything moves in cycles. Nothing stays still for long and no phase, good or bad, ever lasts forever.

In my own life, I’ve noticed this – there are stretches when everything seems to fall into place, when plans flow smoothly and I feel in control. Then, without warning, things shift. Work piles up, relationships get strained or unexpected problems appear. It’s as if the current suddenly picks up speed and before I know it I’m trying to keep my balance through a series of rapids.

With time, I’ve learned to stop fighting those moments. They’re uncomfortable and often unpredictable, but they’re also where growth happens. The calm stretches of life restore us, while the rough ones shape us.

As we spoke, an image came to mind of the mighty Zambezi River. Some stretches of it are calm, almost meditative. The water glides by, smooth and reflective. Then, around a bend, come the rapids: powerful, loud, and unrelenting. People travel from around the world to ride those rapids, not because they’re easy, but because they’re alive.

White-water guides have a rule, go with the river. When you hit turbulence, you don’t fight it. If you fall out of the raft, you float with the current, feet first, trusting that the water will eventually calm and the team will pull you back in. It’s an exhilarating experience, but it’s also a lesson in surrender. You can’t control the river; you can only navigate it.

I think that is the art of living well. Too often we brace against the current, trying to control every twist and turn. We overthink, resist or panic when life gets messy. But when we learn to ride it, to trust that chaos gives way to calm, we start to find a rhythm. The challenges stop feeling like personal failures and start looking more like natural parts of the flow.

When the river smooths out again, that’s the time to rest – to take stock of what you’ve learned, refill your energy and prepare for whatever lies ahead. It’s tempting to wish for an endlessly calm life, but deep down, we know that’s not what brings us alive. The rapids, for all their discomfort, are where we discover our resilience and capacity to adapt.

If life feels turbulent right now, remember that you’ve been through rapids before… and you made it out the other side. Every stretch of calm and every rush of chaos is part of the same journey.

So when the current picks up, take a deep breath. Go with the water. Trust that, before long, you’ll be back in the calm. Stronger, wiser and ready for whatever the river brings next.

Every parent wants to help. We want our kids to succeed, to feel proud of themselves. When the whistle blows and the game kicks off, it’s tempting to jump in, to shout instructions, to correct, to coach from the sideline.

But the truth is this: the most important role we play isn’t tactical. It’s emotional.

Why Encouragement Beats Instructions

Every team already has a coach. The training is done, the game plan is set, the technical advice has been given. What our kids look for from us is different. They want to know we believe in them.

A simple “Great effort!” often matters more than any tactical tip. A smile after a missed pass says, “I’m proud of you anyway,” and when we keep our composure under pressure, they see that the score isn’t the only measure of value.

A Contrast Worth Noticing

Think for a moment about the difference between the sideline of a junior rugby match and the route of a long-distance run. At rugby, you’ll often hear instructions being shouted: “Get back!”, “Pass wide!”, “Tackle lower!” The intention is to help but the impact can be unsettling.

Now picture the crowd at a marathon or a local fun run. Nobody shouts tactics to the runners. You don’t hear “shorten your stride” or “relax your shoulders.” What you hear is encouragement. People clap, they cheer names on vests, they shout “You’ve got this!” and “Keep going!” The runners lift their heads, find a bit more energy, and keep moving.

That kind of support is what works best on the rugby sideline too. Encouragement, not instruction. Presence, not pressure.

The Science of Sideline Pressure

Research shows that when parents coach from the sidelines, children feel more stress. They hesitate, unsure whether to listen to their coach or to us. That moment of doubt can lead to mistakes, but the bigger cost is confidence.

The best thing we can do on the sideline is support. Let the coaches coach. Our role is to show that they are loved whether they win or lose.

What the Sidelines Should Be

When the game gets tough, children often glance towards the sideline. They’re not looking for instructions. They’re looking for reassurance – a nod, a smile, a sense that someone is with them.

What really helps is not more words but a steady presence.

Why This Matters Beyond Rugby

When we manage ourselves on the sidelines, we teach something that goes beyond sport. We show our children how to stay grounded, how to put things in perspective and how to keep faith in themselves.

Bringing It to Life

This is what Mud, Tries and Tantrums is about: reflections and ideas for raising happy rugby players. Rugby is already a great teacher. It gives children courage and connection, and so much more. We don’t need to add more pressure, we just need to let the game do its job.

As this new season progresses let’s make the sidelines a space of support, not stress.