I’m not a cyclist

I’m going to tell you the truth.

I am not a cyclist.

If you’ve been following me for any length of time, you’ll know that cycling is a big part of how I think about leadership. I write about lessons from the professional peloton. I post pictures of rides with friends. I talk about what happens when a team works together on the road and what that means for how we lead in organisations.

But the truth is, I haven’t ridden my bike outdoors since the last day of 2025. And until I wrote this, I hadn’t told anyone that, outside my closest friends.

What’s really going on

It’s been a mixture of factors. The weather has been atrocious (welcome to a British winter). But the bigger issue is the reoccurrence of a back injury I picked up last year. As I write this, I’m visiting a consultant tomorrow morning, likely in anticipation of needing a scan. Most days I’m in pain, living off paracetamol.

I’ve managed a few indoor trainer rides, but beyond that, I’ve done very little in 2026. I’m not feeling healthy. I’ve put on a few kilos. And it’s starting to make me feel quite sad.

Now, I know what you might be thinking: why are you telling me this?

Because I think it matters. And because I think you might recognise the pattern.

The mask we wear

This is what we do. We tell the story that we think others want to hear. We wear a mask and hide what’s not working, especially when we’re under pressure to deliver.

If you’re being judged on outcomes, project deadlines, new product launches, the last thing your stakeholders want to hear is that things aren’t going quite so well. So you cover it up. You push through. You show up as the composed, capable leader everyone expects you to be.

But beneath the mask? Anxiety. Lack of sleep. Loss of confidence. A growing sense that something isn’t right, even if you can’t quite name it.

I see this all the time in the leaders I coach. They’re telling stories, putting on a brave face, and showing up for other people when inside they’re full of worry, full of uncertainty, and not sure what to say. They’re exhausted by the performance of being fine.

“I’m sorry it’s so muddled”

A client said this to me only yesterday.

They’d just been sharing what’s bothering them – with no structure, no filter, and no neat summary. Just the raw, honest mess of what was actually going on. That was exactly the purpose of the session. And yet they still felt the need to apologise that they weren’t coming with a nice, clean coaching topic wrapped in a bow.

I asked them why they were apologising to me.

What they realised was that they were really apologising to themselves. They’d been having this internal fight for months, and they were exhausted by it. The apology wasn’t about the coaching session being untidy. It was about the guilt of not having it all figured out.

Sound familiar?

Why this matters for you

If you’re a senior leader carrying the weight of your organisation, your team, and your own expectations, you already know how isolating that can feel. You’re the person everyone comes to for clarity and direction, but who do you turn to?

The small things you’re covering up – the doubts, the fatigue, the sense that you’ve outgrown something but aren’t sure what – they don’t stay small. They eat away at your confidence, your energy, and eventually your effectiveness. Not because you’re weak, but because you’re human.

It’s never too late to stop and talk. To be kind to yourself and accept that things haven’t gone to plan. That’s not failure. That’s the starting point for something better.

Take the mask off

I work with leaders like this all the time – helping them find clarity, quiet the noise, and start to build a plan to move forward. Not a big, dramatic transformation. Just honest conversation that creates space for honest thinking.

If you want a safe place to take off that mask, even if just for a 30-minute chat, then get in touch. No sell, no big programme. Just space to talk and be honest with yourself.

As for me? It’s not been the best six weeks. But I will get back on that bike, and I will move forward.

And maybe that’s the real lesson from the peloton after all. It’s not about never falling behind. It’s about getting back in the group when you’re ready.