Running on Fumes

You've been running on fumes for some time.

It feels like you're raising the Titanic just to get out of bed.

You're walking around with a couple of lead boots, making every step of the day feel impossible.

The real pain here is the emotional toll.

A feeling like your best self has been locked away in a deep, dark dungeon, while the rest of the world seems to be getting on with their lives.

Everyone else is doing just fine.

Buying homes. Having kids. Working dream jobs. Running marathons. Living their best, energised, productive lives.

And you are...

Feeling like shit. Feeling like you're being left behind. Feeling tired.

It sucks.

And I'm sorry.

Truly.

I've been there a few times.

Looking into other people's lives through a misted window while I stood out in the rain.

Those days got dark.

Storms raged inside me as I tried to find a little hope and feel a little better.

When I audit those times, there's always been a faint signal inside me.

How do I describe it?

It's a flame. A flicker. A small dash of hope. A voice. An instinct.

It is hope, I think.

Actually, it's a knowing.

A knowing of exactly what I need to do next.

The first time I noticed it, it took me years to understand what it was.

At the time, I was lost in addiction, so every signal from within was muffled by the pull to get fucked up, or dampened by the sadness of another comedown.

But I knew it existed.

Occasionally, for a brief moment, I would know what I needed to do to pull myself from the storm.

In my twenties, I knew I needed to exercise, to train, to get healthier.

If I summarise that knowing today, I'd say I knew I needed to listen to my body, and that my body would guide me through.

That understanding took me about 20 years.

What I've come to understand is this:

For many of us, there's a step before trying to "fix" our mental health.

And that step is looking at our physical health.

Being curious about physiology before psychology.

Unpicking the idea that: "Our bodies respond to the inputs we place upon them. Change the inputs, change the outcomes."

I'm not suggesting all the answers live here.

But I do know this:

If someone is anxious, drinking lots of caffeine, and spending hours on screens, I'm going to ask the question: "What different outcome would you expect if you changed the input?"

Here's what I know after ten years of coaching people stuck in holes.

When asked the right questions, they already know what needs to change.

They know they need to eat better. They know they need less caffeine. They know they need daylight. They know they need to get back to the gym. They know they need to go to bed earlier. They know they need to stop doomscrolling. They know they need to see friends more. They know they need to leave a job. They know they need to leave a toxic relationship.

You already have all the data inside you to create change.

The algorithm of you is far more powerful than any AI.

And coaches like me are simply here to help surface the answers, create a simple plan, and add accountability.

If you're going to start listening to that knowing, there are a few lessons I need to share.

Remember how I said I went to the gym in my twenties?

I went to multiple gyms, many times, and never made training stick.

I'd push hard for a month, then give up, burn out, get injured, or just want to get back to the party.

Truthfully, I wasn't ready to live sober or healthy.

But my framing of how to get healthy also didn't match what my body needed.

My nervous system was fried from drugs, high-pressure work, and childhood trauma.

Simply put, I lived in a state of chronic stress.

So while the gym looked good on paper, adding more load to an already overloaded system was only ever going to end one way.

Failure.

Stress is stress.

And I added more stress when I couldn't handle the stress I already had.

At the time, my only frame of reference was go hard or go home.

People weren't talking about recovery. Yoga was "for girls." Men lifted heavy and had six-packs.

I'm a nineties kid.

All action heroes need only apply.

So I translated my knowing through the only lens I had.

That lens still shows up today, sometimes.

"Oh, I feel like shit, so I should run marathons like I used to."

Comparison is the thief of joy.

Movement is only "good" if it looks like it did five, ten, fifteen years ago.

Incorrect.

Here's the point.

When you listen to your knowing, don't let noise get in the way.

If you need better sleep, don't beat yourself up because the internet says eight to ten hours and you got seven.

Your context matters. Your starting point matters. Your goals matter.

This is your journey, not yours from five years ago.

The next lesson came when I finally matched my knowing with the right training dosage.

I met my body where it was, not where I hoped or pressured it to be.

By then, I was turning thirty and motivated to get clean.

Things had gone nuclear.

I wasn't just hurting myself anymore, but people I loved.

I stood at a crossroads.

It was time to make better choices.

Therapy and rehab weren't in my vocabulary back then.

But I knew I needed distance from the environments that triggered my behaviour.

The gym wasn't right.

But something about nature kept pulling at me.

I needed to change the inputs to change the outcome.

One of my most prized possessions is a worn-out book: Time Out's Country Walks from London.

Bought around 2011.

It became a map to my recovery.

More importantly, it sparked my love for helping people out of holes through movement.

My mission each week was simple: Stay clean. Get to Saturday. Get out of London. Clear my head.

Some weeks I won. Others I didn't.

But over time, I won more than I lost.

That gave me space to breathe, time to think, and energy to rebuild my life.

The key reason consistency finally stuck was this: I matched the demands of movement to my physical capacity at the time.

I wasn't hammering a taxed body in the gym five times a week.

I was walking in nature and slowly rebuilding health.

My body wanted to return to the practice.

Motivation followed energy.

And in that space, I processed thoughts and emotions I'd suppressed my entire life.

It was up a mountain, well, more like a hill in Surrey, that I quietly forgave my father.

That's the power of putting one foot in front of the other.

So how does this translate to how you're feeling now?

Especially if you're running on fumes?

It starts with trusting yourself.

You already have the advantage.

Time. Experience. Lessons learned. That knowing.

Call it instinct, genetics, or something else entirely.

I trust that more than any coach, quick fix, or well-meaning advice.

So start with a walk.

Listen.

Translate what you hear into simple, realistic actions.

Then act.

One thing.

The thing you know will help most.

Rinse and repeat.

Mind the dosage.

Don't force doors open.

I promise you this:

It takes time. It takes work.

But if you learn to listen and trust yourself, you'll stop dreading the morning and start finding energy to meet each day.

I'm here. I'm on your team.

Wishing you the very best.