Choosing where to spend your courage

Well, I missed writing my blog last week.

I was in the midst of working with colleagues on a collaborative bid for four pieces of work, and something had to give. As it turned out, my blog wasn’t the only thing.

I was due to travel to London for the Barefoot Coaching Conference. I’d been looking forward to meeting people face to face, reconnecting with others and expanding my network. But the bid had the potential to bring work, and there was a lot still to do.

It was a difficult decision.

If I’m really honest, there were other things sitting behind it too. A delayed computer delivery had complicated the week. There was a bit of a perimenopausal confidence wobble. I would be travelling alone to an unfamiliar part of London after being mugged there previously when looking at a map. There was finding safe gluten-free food, meeting lots of new people and the prospect of actively networking.

All manageable. All things I could have done. But collectively, they added to the weight of the decision.

I was genuinely sad to miss what sounded like a brilliant day and a valuable opportunity. But I also knew that, at that moment, staying home was the right decision for me.

In this instance, that might have been less about recognising my limitations and more about choosing where to spend my courage.

There are times when pushing ourselves beyond what feels comfortable is exactly what we need to do. There are others when saying no to one thing creates the space to say yes to something that matters more.

It reminded me of conversations I have with coaching clients, when a question can suddenly open up a possibility that they hadn’t seen before. It was also a fairly stark reminder that asking those questions of yourself, when you’re standing right in the middle of the decision, isn’t nearly as easy.

Being a coach certainly doesn’t make me immune to crises of confidence or indecision.

Several good things came from the week. Between us, my colleagues and I completed the bid. Remote collaboration brought its own challenges, and there was a lot of hard work involved, but we got there. We submitted something for work that really chimes with our values and could, if successful, lead to something exciting and worthwhile.

And while all that was happening, I also started doing something deliberate about my own health and wellbeing.

I’ve cut down considerably on my intake and am gradually building up my exercise again now that my Achilles is less troublesome. It is going really well and I’m already seeing progress.

I’m determined, but I’m also trying to remember what happened last time.

Anyone who has spent years yo-yo dieting will probably recognise the pattern. You work incredibly hard, make progress, reach a point where everything seems to stop and, eventually, things begin moving in the wrong direction again.

Last time, I responded by pushing my body harder. Too hard. I picked up a serious injury and, two years later, it still affects me.

So perhaps there is another lesson there. Challenge doesn’t always mean pushing harder. Sometimes it means knowing when to push, when to ease off, and how to keep moving without doing yourself damage in the process.

Nature, meanwhile, has been doing its usual job of providing plenty to notice.

I may have spoken a little too soon about the returning birds. They came - and then they went again.

The swans’ comings and goings have kept us entertained. One friendly female clearly remembers us arriving with food; another looks across in apparent disgust, pulls her neck back and hisses as though to say, go away. They have now left though as the pond has become too shallow for them to swim in.

Herons and egrets patrol the remaining water, as do the cormorants, while kestrels hunt overhead, frequently pursued by crows.

We spotted a buzzard at the edge of a field and, when we returned about an hour later, watched it make a half-hearted dive towards a hare. The hare was halfway across the field in seconds. A little further on, we found the pile of pigeon feathers the buzzard had left behind. Clearly, its heart hadn’t really been in the chase.

The deer are still around in large numbers and are much easier to see now that the fields have been cultivated ready for the next crops.

At Skipwith, things are remarkably quiet. There are hares in the fields but surprisingly little birdlife, and even the fungi aren’t making much of an appearance yet despite the recent rain. We did, rather sadly, come across the remains of a large bird of prey amongst the undergrowth, possibly a buzzard.

There were surprises too. Dragonflies were still darting around the dried ponds, and we watched a young English Longhorn calf get its legs stuck as it tried to reach its mother. It took an enormous effort to pull itself free, but eventually it managed it.

At another point we found ourselves caught between groups of Exmoor ponies. There was something of a stalemate as ponies and humans stood looking at one another, apparently wondering who was going to be brave enough to move first.

Perhaps appropriately, some of the most encouraging news was about change.

A man stopped to talk to us after spotting our cameras and told us about plans to rewild around 400 acres of land around the site. We had noticed areas being cleared and fenced but hadn’t known why. The plans apparently include scrapes, new ponds, woodland and wildflowers, with the intention of creating richer habitats and attracting more wildlife, including wading birds.

I can’t wait to watch it develop.

Maybe that’s where the last ten days leave me.

I made a choice not to go to London. That matters to me because, in my previous working life, decisions about where I went and what took priority were often made by somebody else. This time, the decision was mine.

I’ve made a good start on improving my health, but this time I want determination to sit alongside patience rather than trying to batter my body into submission.

With colleagues, I have submitted a bid for work we care about and which could create real possibilities.

And I know I that need to keep challenging myself if I want Nemophilist Coaching & Wellbeing to become what I believe it can be.

I’ve realised that recognising our limits isn’t about making our lives smaller. Sometimes it can be about understanding ourselves well enough to know which limits need respecting, and which ones we are ready to stretch.

The young people in my life seem to understand the stretching part instinctively. My granddaughter and nephews have been playing in their first football matches, while my grandson has started boxing classes. New experiences, new people, new skills, and confidence being built through having a go.

Adults do much the same thing. We just tend to arrive carrying rather more baggage.

So, as autumn begins, I’m moving into it with purpose, and not by promising myself that I’ll suddenly become fearless, or that I’ll say yes to everything that scares me, but by trying to become a little better at knowing when to listen to my limits and when to be brave enough to move beyond them.

Maybe that’s also courage.

What are you making space for this autumn?

If you’re facing a decision, feeling stuck between competing priorities, or wondering whether it’s time to respect a limit or gently stretch one, coaching can offer some space to think it through.

You don’t need to have the answer before you begin. If you’d like to explore it together, you’re welcome to get in touch.