Morning friend.
On Monday morning I returned home from walking Ziggy with Sara, and I wrote this draft before the thought disappeared into the rest of the week. Today I’m editing it into something I hope will make a difference for someone reading it tomorrow.
Once the boys have gone to school and college each morning, we head out together for an hour. It has become an important part of our day. Some time outside before work gets hold of us, with whatever sunlight Yorkshire is prepared to offer at this time of year.
Our route often takes us past the council golf course in the local park. I find myself watching the older people playing.
Which is slightly surprising, given that I retired from golf at 26.
It was a firm decision.
I’d recently moved to Milton Keynes after landing my dream job in the covert world. A new colleague and I went out for a round, during which I discovered that hitting a small ball towards a distant hole was considerably harder than it looked.
At one particular par three, there was a pond.
I put about half a dozen balls into it.
After the final ball, my eight iron followed. Then another couple of clubs.
Their accuracy improved considerably once I stopped trying to hold on to them.
I left what remained of my clubs outside the clubhouse and vowed never to play again.
So far, I have maintained that commitment.
Twenty years and counting.
Looking back, permanent retirement was somewhat of an extreme response to a disappointing round of golf. There was probably room for a smaller adjustment.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. How far we can swing in one direction before deciding that the answer must be somewhere at the opposite extreme.
A pendulum.
One of the places I recognise it the most regularly is in how I eat. I can eat clean for a while, only to find myself reaching for sugar whenever I’m exhausted or upset. Sometimes past the point of guilt and to where I feel sick.
This week, I’ve eaten far too much of it.
Sweet things became a comfort during the most difficult moments in my childhood. Recognising and understanding that habit hasn’t stopped me returning to it as a man.
Usually, at some point, I decide I need to get a grip and become very strict with myself again.
You can probably see where that goes.
The swing I’ve been noticing most recently, though, is towards work.
When I resigned from leading covert operations aged forty, I knew I had a lot left to build.
I’d given the first half of my adult life to public service. Medals on the wall of my office and a safe full of things James Bond would find interesting wouldn’t cover the mortgage.
I needed to create some security for my family, and I felt my forties should be a decade long sprint to establish it.
Building communities gave me a way to continue serving people. Alongside that, I wanted to raise money for charities that mattered to me.
I still believe in those things. I’m proud of what we’ve built and the people who have helped make it possible.
Almost seven years into that sprint, though, I’m feeling the cost of how much space it all occupies.
I work seven days a week and rarely see my friends. I struggle to name a hobby that has no connection to what I do professionally. Sometimes, after working on a weekend morning, I fall asleep in the afternoon.
There might be time left in the day. There isn’t always much of me left to enjoy it.
I remember saying that 2025 needed to be a quieter year.
It ended up busier.
Then 2026 came along.
Rowing around the country for charity was a substantial addition to the diary of course. The businesses have continued to need more attention as we grew, while other pressures, including (in my view) a sham Police investigation carried out at the request of my former employer, have been harder to put down at the end of each day.
I’ve been so occupied with what needs doing next that I’ve struggled to work out what I need myself.
This week it hit. I just haven’t felt like me and it has become harder to dismiss that as something another decent night’s sleep will sort out.
I don’t have a neat explanation for how I have been feeling but I do need to take seriously the possibility that I’ve been carrying too much for too long and the pendulum needs to swing back.
That’s what has been on my mind when I walk past the golfers.
I have no particular desire to join them in trying to put a tiny ball into a tiny hole half a mile away. We have established quite clearly how that will end.
But watching them reminds me of something missing for me right now.
They have somewhere to go with their friends. Something to practice because they enjoy it, without needing to turn it into a business or, frankly, be any good at it.
I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to have a hobby, or to see my mates regularly enough that it’s an ordinary part of life.
This week, I made a point of finding some time with a couple of close friends. We agreed to catch up more regularly.
It made a small difference.
What stayed with me was how unusual those couple of hours laughing had become for me.
I’ve spent almost seven years building a life in which the end goal is to have more room for things like that.
But I’m wondering what, exactly, I’m waiting to finish before I can enjoy it.
There will be another business decision after this one. Something else that needs my attention. Another charity campaign to deliver.
That is who I am and I don’t want it to be any different.
But seeing my friends cannot depend on the day I finally have nothing left to do.
I’m realising that I don’t need to abandon what I’m building to make some room elsewhere.
On Friday, I committed to seeing one of my closest friends every other week at rugby. I want those couple of hours to become ordinary again.
There are good reasons for giving all of ourselves to something for a while and I can live with the sprint I started running seven years ago.
But now that I can feel the cost I’m less comfortable explaining why laughing alongside a close friend has become an unusual event.
I wanted to build something that would support a good life for my family.
Now I intend to be more present in that life while I’m building it.
Before we go any further, let’s take a moment to debrief together:
What have you been putting off until life gets quieter?
Your mission this week (if you choose to accept it):
Make a definite arrangement to do something you keep postponing. If it involves someone else, agree the date together.
I’m still retired from golf.
But I’ve made an agreement with my mate, and I intend to keep that one too.
That’s enough for now.
More next Sunday.
Mike
Hold the Line · Do the Hard Things
