What's Your 200km Challenge?

If you're reading this when I post it – I'm not here.

But what about the Golden Hour, Mark?! That critical hour after posting when you need to generate interaction, otherwise the algorithm condemns your thoughts to the ether (along with millions of other unread posts).

Well. That's OK. If this one doesn't get read. No biggie.

I'm currently somewhere between Bedford and Brighton on my bike, taking part in our annual club 200km ride. You may well ask – why? It sounds horrendous, doesn't it? And at times today I'll question all my choices. 200km is a long way in one day (unless you're a pro rider, which I'm definitely not).

But here's what I've learned from these rides: the moment I descend off the South Downs into Brighton and emerge on that seafront – pier lights twinkling, people enjoying what's left of summer – all the doubt disappears.

They call it "type two" fun. The kind that's miserable whilst you're doing it but magical in retrospect. Once I'm eating fish and chips with a beer in hand, I'll already be planning the next one.

And this feeling isn't unique to cycling freaks.

How many times have you stood outside that boardroom, heart racing before a presentation you'd obsessed about for weeks? Or committed to leading a transformation project that felt impossibly complex? Or taken on a role that stretched you beyond what you thought you could handle?

And this isn't just about work. It could be attempting that tricky Heston Blumenthal recipe for the big dinner party. Or locking yourself away for months to finally write the book you've promised yourself was in you.

That knot in your stomach, the voice questioning your sanity – it's the same feeling I get at kilometre marker 150 when my legs are screaming and Brighton still feels impossibly far away.

But here's the thing about type two fun in leadership: it's where the real growth happens. Not in the comfortable conversations or the predictable quarterly reviews. It's in those moments when you're not sure you can make it to the finish line, but you keep pedalling anyway.

What happens when we reframe those "impossible challenges" as "type two fun"? When we stop expecting leadership to feel good in the moment and start appreciating the growth that comes from pushing through?

The best leaders I know aren't the ones who avoid difficult terrain. They're the ones who've learned to find meaning in the struggle itself. They understand that the discomfort of growth isn't a bug – it's a feature.

So, what's your equivalent of a 200km ride? What challenge are you avoiding because it feels too hard, too risky, or too uncertain?

Maybe it's that conversation you've been putting off with your team. Maybe it's the strategic pivot everyone knows needs to happen, but no one wants to own. Maybe it's simply admitting you don't have all the answers and asking for help.

Whatever it is, remember this: the feeling at the Brighton seafront exists because of the hills that came before it, not despite them.

And if nobody reads this because I broke the Golden Hour rule? That's fine too. I'll have had a brilliant day challenging myself, and there's always tomorrow.

What's your next 200km challenge? I'd love to hear about it.