Mettle Monday - From a Bar Stool to Becoming One of Irelands Fittest Men

Conor O'Keefe • Jan 18, 2021


I woke up and I still had my clothes on. At least I had taken off my shoes this time, sometimes I wouldn’t even manage that. It was January 1st, 2019 and I woke up in my Guinness stained blue and white striped shirt, that wreaked of fags and my jeans that had some kind of burger sauce stain on them. I slid my legs round under me and sat on the edge of my bed, knees to elbows with a dry numbness in my head. I rubbed my puffy face and eyes and thought in that moment “what the fuck are you doing?”


Like many my age I had fallen into that mid to late twenties cycle of life that was all too comfortable. I worked a job that I hated but that paid me well and I either spent that money on booze having a “good time” or on stuff that I didn’t even want. This constant cycle of week to week, month to month, pay cheque to pay cheque. And what was I getting from it? Nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. I was getting a ticket onto a roller coaster that I didn’t even want to be on in the first place. One that had euphoric highs and crashing lows. Mood regulation was a myth, or at least it was unattainable at the time. Do you ever feel like that? Like you’re living a life of constant ups and downs and there is no middle ground where you can just……be? Yeah, me too. I struggled with times of real lows which could last days if not weeks. I felt worthless and trapped in the life I was manufacturing for myself. I was lost.


I woke up that morning and knew one thing for certain; my life had to change. Now. I was sick of it. Dreading going into work, to a job I detested. The comfort of money and trappings had made me weak. Made me stay. I had gotten too comfortable in my company car and fat pay cheque lifestyle. And for what? So I could drive that car to and from work and spend that fat pay cheque on booze that only made me feel worse? Yeah, sounds stupid to me too. I’ve had this type of eureka moment before where I would go off the drink, start training again and eat better. I would do that for an uncertain period of time and then slip back into the drudgery of everyday life. But for some reason this time felt different. It felt like I knew I was making a choice for good this time, none of this seasonal cleanse bullshit. I knew I was going to make some changes, like I always did. I would abstain from alcohol and as a result of this, abstain from late nights. I would start a training regime of my own design and try to make better nutrition choices. I had no idea how far this was going to take me, however.


I got chatting to a good friend of mine Mark O’Mahony some days after the morning in question, where we reminisced on our completion of the Connemara 100 Mile Ultra Run the August before. I was a far cry from the man that had finished that race a mere four months previous, I had really let myself go. That was thanks to four months of wearing Irish handcuffs. That is, drinking with a drink in each hand. Usually a pint of Guinness and a shot of Jameson, neat. My favourite combo. We chuckled at how tough we had found it and Mark then let slip his plan to run a 200 mile race in May. Without hesitation I said that I would join him. His perplexed facial expression and rather cynical demeanor were appropriate. I looked like a guy who wouldn’t have the endurance to watch a two hour film in the cinema, let alone run 200 miles. But for some reason I knew at that very moment that I would be on the start line come May.


How do you start this? How does a person train for a 200 mile race? I don’t have a clue either. I had trained for the 100 miler but hadn’t done half enough and drank throughout the entirety of training. I thought back to why I had even signed up for the 100 miler in the first place. David Goggins. What a tough dude. He had motivated me to run the 100 miler. But like he always says “motivation ain’t shit.” Cause when the motivation is gone so is the lifestyle and work ethic that came with it. And that’s exactly what happened. After I crossed the 100 mile finish line I just went back to my normal life of comfort and lack of effort. Drinking, smoking and basically being a complacent slob living for the weekend. The big question is: why did I let that happen? Why did I go back to the factory default settings? Answering that question was going to be harder than I had ever expected. The result of answering that question would change my life.


I obviously started out by running. I hadn’t run a mile in four months and the most exercise I had was lifting a pint from the bar to my lips to take a greedy slug of it. So what did I do? I ran a half marathon. On the first day of training. Jesus, it nearly killed me and I hobbled into my porch afterward already feeling the pain. But for some reason I wasn’t displeased, I was happy. Pain meant that I had actually gotten out of my comfort zone and pushed it a bit. Two days later I ran another half marathon. Two days later, another. I was telling my body that this is the way its going to be from now on. There was no escape. I am reminded of a song by Gil Scott-Heron called The Revolution Will Not Be Televised where he writes:


You will not be able to stay home, brother
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and

Skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised


I was going to have to be present. I was going to have to be there. I was going to have to be in the pain. And be comfortable with it. I wasn’t going to be able to disconnect or distract myself. I wasn’t going to be able to whitewash of over it. I was there, there for the long haul. This was my life now.


I was clocking up mileage from the get-go and that I wasn’t drinking, my weekends could be spent running or recovering properly. I was feeling fantastic and with almost a month of training down I was feeling like a new man. The dog’s bollocks if you will. I was off the drink and feeling great but I had made plans to meet a girl I liked on a night out on the 26th of January, so I said I’d go all out and have a few drinks. Fast forward to the following morning and I woke up not knowing where I was or what had happened. I had overcooked it yet again and ended up a drunken slob passing out. And the girl I liked? Forget about it, the thing about first impressions is you only get one. I haven’t drank since that night and it’s hard to see me drinking again in the near future.


So what did I do next? I kicked training up a notch and started getting up at 4.30am on cold dark winter mornings. There was something beautiful about this, almost poetic. As if i had woken up before the entire world had and laced up my running shoes. Just me crunching across my gravel driveway in the dark, getting into my car to head off for another run. On one of my runs I talked on my Instagram story about why I was doing all of this. Getting up early in the dark. On cold rainy mornings in February. It was because I was doing Tough Fucker Shit. Or TFS for short. It meant not only hardening my body physically but mentally. This would prove far more important when times got tough. Little did I know how people would react to this and how it would have a positive effect on the people following my journey. Every day I was getting pictures and videos of people hash tagging TFS and really feeding into the mantra and the ethos connected to it. I was being approached by people and messaged by people saying how I had inspired them to get back into shape. One of my friends was a big smoker, smoked twenty to twenty five cigarettes a day and is going to be lining up for his very first half marathon soon. It was amazing. I really felt like maybe my tiny drop in the ocean of life was meaning something, however small. It really fueled my journey and kept me striving to be my best.


I quit my job and over those next few weeks I noticed things starting to change in me. Things in my mind. I was seeing things differently. I had pushed an awful lot of pain and unresolved issues of mine to the darker corners of my mind, never to be brought to light again. I didn’t want to deal with them but my mind had other ideas. While I ran, these old festering hurts would press play on the remote of my conscious mind. I had to think about them. I had to give them the time they deserved. No longer would they crouch timidly in the shadows. Each time I laced up my runners. Each time I ran. Each time I sat and drank coffee. Each time I drove home. I did so with the demons I had locked away for years. I chatted with them. I fought with them. I forgave them. I forgave myself. The external punishment of my early morning runs was nothing to the internal punishment I had been giving myself for years. That made training and running my time. My zone. Where the harder I pushed myself the freer I felt in my mind. I felt like someone had handed me the reigns again. Like, “here you go, you can be in control again.” It was beautiful.


This new found freedom I had developed in my mind allowed me to push myself physically in ways I never had done before. Runs seemed easier. My bed seemed less comfortable when I was trying to get out of it on cold mornings. Gym sessions seemed shorter, although they were in fact longer and more grueling. I felt invincible for want of a better term. I even ran four marathons in a row to show myself that I could do it. Then something unexpected happened. “You were close to tearing the tendon clean off the bone” — my physio talking to me about my femur. I had over trained my quads and under-trained my glutes causing my hips to tilt forward. That placed a lot of pressure and pain on my hip joint. This was going to be a test. I was two months out from the 200 mile race and I had a pretty serious hip injury. Hips are important for running, I’ll give you that fact for free. What is a runner who can’t run? Sounds like the start of fairly shit joke.


My physio is a very knowledgeable man and I had the utmost trust and faith in him. He gave me exercises to do which I did diligently. But the physical aspect of it all was the most straight forward. I just have to do these things and not run for a while. Not run for a while. Not run. I’m trying to run 200 miles in two months’ time and I can’t fucking run? Christ. Talk about a mind game. As I would roll out my muscles or do the exercises my physio gave me all I would think about was that race. It wasn’t getting any further away. It was coming for me. But hold up a second, now. You’re this guy who claims to be building a strong mind right? You’re the guy getting up at 4.30am and running thirty kilometers before work? You’re the guy training two to three times a day? And you’re the guy who just ran four marathons back to back? Suddenly things changed. As if the stars had aligned. You’re better than this. I was going to use this time to become a better all-around athlete. Use this as just another test, another mind game to overcome. Positive. Inner. Monologue. This is what I was hearing every time I was talking to myself. Positive evidence based assertions that made me believe I could do anything. That I could achieve anything. That I could be anything.


As the days and weeks rolled on, I thought more and more about the charity I had chosen to raise money for while doing the 200 mile race. Pieta House. I thought about that guy sitting on his bed on January 1st and how he felt inside his own mind. He felt scared. He felt trapped. And he felt alone. I thought to myself, “if just one person is helped by my fundraising it would be pretty fuckin’ cool.” To tell you the truth I had felt like maybe I had already made a difference in people’s lives. In the people who had been following my story. My journey. So, I feel like I am a two-pronged attack on mental health difficulties. Through my fundraising and indeed through my example. This is new for me. Talking about myself so positively and meaning it. I did feel proud of myself and I hadn’t even run the 200 miles. Not yet anyway….


.......To Be Continued

Conor O'Keeffe is an ultra marathon runner and mental health advocate. Conor stumbled upon ultra running by chance in 2019. While training for a 200 mile ultra marathon in the UK he began to unearth a sense of self and inner stability.


(This is Part one of a two part blog entry. Watch out for Part two soon)

Do Your Beliefs Belong To You?

By Blaise Brady • 12 Sep, 2022
Most girls dream of their big day, meeting the love of their life and having the most beautiful wedding. They have a dream dress in mind sometimes well before even knowing the person they might marry. But for me it was different, I never dreamt of that day. In fact I had a perspective that was quite the opposite.

Mettle Monday - Thank You For The Life You Gave Me

By Helena Cornes • 23 May, 2022
When Brin and I brought our first house, we were beyond excited to finally have our own space. We moved in together in June 2015 and couldn't wait to start our next chapter. A few days before Christmas 2015, we were both going on our annual works night out, I dropped him off at the pub, he told me he loved me and that was to be the last time I saw him.

Mettle Monday - On The Edge Of Existence

By Wendy Searle • 28 Mar, 2022
Written by Wendy Searle When I reached the South Pole in 2020, I was exhausted, elated and not a little relieved. I had just completed a 42-day solo, unsupported expedition; over 700 miles of vast, white nothingness. Those feelings persisted throughout the flight back from Pole (which took only 4 hours, to do what had taken me five weeks), throughout the return to the UK via South America. I had already been delayed at the start, thanks to bad weather, so I returned to work after a long weekend at home. My colleagues seemed genuinely glad to see me back, and were interested in my journey. For the first week or so, I couldn’t sleep, despite being achingly tired. (I also couldn’t stop eating, after losing 10 kilos in just over a month, so much so that I once had to stop for supplies during a 15-minute walk.) I was high as a kite, and still so wired after the continual focus of expedition life. It’s akin to climbing, or skydiving, where your whole focus is in the moment. Was I too cold? That could be fatal. Was I too hot? A surprising risk in polar latitudes, as if you sweat it will freeze. Was my kit OK? How long to the next break? And on and on, for what felt like forever when I was actually out on the ice. It’s that element of total immersion, of being so far removed from the everyday – emails, traffic, work; that is at once so daunting and so addictive. After the initial high dropped to merely walking around being more back there than present here, I started to think about going back to training. For what though? I had nothing to train for, and very little in reserve. I took to tyre hauling, which is what I spent so much of my time doing in the run up to the expedition – the traditional method of building leg strength and endurance for pulling a sled (or pulk) for 11-12 hours a day. As soon as I strapped on my pulk harness, I could transport myself back to Antarctica. And that helped, because I was struggling to readjust to life after expedition. It wasn’t just those weeks alone on skis that I missed. I’d been planning, training and fundraising for what amounted to just over 1,000 hours, for five years. I’d met a team of soldiers who were traversing Antarctica, and I became more and more drawn to this extraordinary continent. I read some polar history, some accounts of the first Polar expeditions, when they were true explorers. Despite not having any kind of adventure experience to speak of, I was hooked. I dedicated my life to making the expedition happen. Everything was in pursuit of the Pole. If I read a book, it was about Antarctica, if I had free time, it was spent attending events where potential sponsors might be found. I spoke to everyone who had ever been to the South Pole that I could. After working out what training and experience would be required, I set about ticking it off; Norway training, a spectacular crossing of the Greenland ice sheet, time alone in Iceland. The training was, if not at the level of an Olympic athlete, was certainly dedicated. Twice a day, for six days a week, I hauled tyres, ran up hills, lay in rivers and ice baths, and put up my tent in my house, over and over so I’d have the muscle memory ingrained when I was tired at the end of a long day skiing. Once I was back, I decided the only cure for the huge gap in my life that all those things had left, was another expedition. I don’t think I’m unique in that regard, but I actually missed the build-up, the nurturing of this idea, which became the expedition, which eventually took on a life of its own. I missed the slightly-sick feeling in my stomach when I thought about actually having to go ahead with what I set out to do, the uncertainty of my ability to complete the journey. When COVID stopped all travel outside the UK, my plans took a hit. The world became smaller overnight – so small it really only included Wiltshire, where I live. I’d gone from an all-or-nothing challenge to, well, nothing. Ideas, plans, even talks with sponsors, were pushed into the long grass. Ironically, after finding the South Pole on my own, I felt a bit lost. But gradually I began to see that the adventure can lie in the everyday. I had to if I wasn’t going to lose my mind. I bought a mountain bike for the first time, and began to explore the local off-road routes and tiny jumps. I wrote a book proposal about my journey. In the end, I think that period of quiet gave me to time to reflect on the enormity of what I’d done – being only the seventh woman in history to complete the journey solo, unsupported, from Hercules Inlet to the geographic South Pole. Instead of jumping into another trip, I allowed that to sink in, for it to become part of who I was. And now I’m ready for the next adventure.

Mettle Monday - Sickbed To Summits

By Sara Crosland • 30 Aug, 2021
A few hours later, I’d be called back to the hospital under the pretense my consultant had a cancellation. He sat me down and told me that I had a brain tumour. It was an acoustic neuroma (sometimes known as a vestibular schwannoma), a low grade, but in my case, uncharacteristically fast-growing, cystic tumour that was growing on the hearing and balance nerves within the confined space of my skull. This explained many of the symptoms I’d been experiencing recently, but not all.

Mettle Monday - Always Believe In Yourself

By Lindsay Walter • 09 Aug, 2021
I lost all of my hair at age 2, due to the autoimmune condition, Alopecia. It was extremely hard to navigate not knowing anyone else with my condition. I felt very alone and isolated. I began to wear a wig since I can remember to fit in with everyone else. I never truly felt like “me” but I didn’t know how to be ok with my Alopecia and the emotional roller coaster that was being bald. Kids were extremely mean to me and bullied me a lot for my wig and lack of eyebrows and eyelashes.

Mettle Monday - A Sign

By Pete DePrez Jr. • 21 Jun, 2021
I don’t recall much about the call. It was a dead guy, or girl. I helped the coroner collect the body and went outside. It was night-time and the lights from our overheads were swirling in the darkness. I began speaking with another deputy, and suddenly became aware that I was seeing his face as he would look if he were dead. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just happened. It wasn’t as shocking as one might think. I blinked and even laughed to myself about it, but I couldn’t shake myself free from what I was seeing. It should have been a sign; I should have questioned what I was seeing, but I didn’t. My mind had begun to operate on its own. I should have questioned what was happening, but I didn’t. I told myself it must be a natural repercussion of seeing so many dead people. But it didn’t stop.

Mettle Monday - Survivor

By Rachel Wild • 07 Jun, 2021
Written by Rachel wild I am a survivor of sexual abuse by my own father. Still feels like a taboo subject even currently. Therefore, it is so important for me to speak out. bravely... loudly... so everyone can hear. It was not my fault, sexual abuse is never the victim’s fault, but they carry it like it is.... they carry the shame and the guilt and the anger. The man who was meant to protect me from all evil in the world was the person who damaged me the most. Both parents were abusive physically and mentally, which I still struggle to understand as to how you can hurt your own child. I have been on an incredible journey and life has been made much harder because of this, however it has made me fight hard to do the right thing, it has made me resilient, it is developed my kindness and compassion. It also affects your ability to trust, I have nightmares, I have hyper independence as I have always had to do everything on my own. I went into care at 15, I got my own flat and three jobs at 16 and took myself to night college and studied to become a beauty therapist and Dental Nurse. I have always had a defiance, a drive, a determination to not let what has happened ruin me or use it as an excuse to behave poorly. I strive to do well in life, I have had so much stolen from me, I have a lot of life to live and make up for. I have slowly over the last two years started to process what has happened, I have felt incredible hot white rage, depression, panic, such sadness I have not wanted to go out, grief and loss of my childhood and all the things they stole from me. But I have grown as a person. I do not carry this secret alone, I feel empowered, calmer, more peaceful. It has given me kindness and compassion for myself. I want to help other survivors of sexual abuse, I want them to know life can be good, you can move forward you can heal. For me what has helped me heal, has been unburdening myself and sharing, reporting to the police, friends, support from counselling and specialist services, running, nature, mindfulness, meditation, and yoga and cheese and chocolate! Walking into the police station to report this was one of the most terrifying things I have ever done. What happens if they do not believe me? what happens if he comes and gets me and attacks me? what happens if other people attack me? I had the most incredible Detective, who listened whilst I told her some of the most intimate details of the abuse, feeling so ashamed. Not once did I feel judged, I felt listened to and cared for... and eventually so empowered. Not straight away, I felt exhausted after reporting, scared... I could see him everywhere. I had panic attacks, nightmares, I could not sleep... this lasted for about 12 months, and then eased slightly. It is normal to feel how you feel, it is important to acknowledge it and access help, the Independent Sexual Violence Advisor at the RASASC (Rape and sexual Assault Unit) probably saved my life, as did the support from my friends. If someone discloses abuse to you, be aware of the strength and vulnerability that it takes, you might be the first person they ever tell. It is so important to listen... just listen... please do not judge, please do not tell them how they should or should not feel. Just listen to them and do not interrupt, depending on the situation later ask them if they have ever spoken to anyone.... and would they like to talk to someone who deals with abuse/rape/assault like the RASASC unit. Just telling one person can start a domino effect on the path of healing. You do not have to report to the police, ringing an anonymous line, telling a friend, a counsellor, journaling can all start the process to you feeling lighter and getting on the road to peace and contentment. I reported sexual abuse by my father in 2018, he was being charged on the 15th of September and did not turn up to court. A warrant was issued for his arrest, he was found dead at home. Ten days earlier my Grandad died, he was my only family member so the past few years have been incredibly difficult. The last few months were so difficult, but also because my father is dead for the first time in my life, I feel safe. This will never go away for me, it will always have happened, so it is a life-long journey, it is part of who I am. Please do not tell survivors to put it behind them, forget about it, or move on, it is not that simple. Trauma is complex, I still have nightmares, I still think I see him, I still feel unsafe if out running and there is a man that looks like him. Even though my brain knows I am safe, my survival brain is trying to keep me safe. I have always been a very private person and kept things to myself. One of the things I have found most beneficial and helpful is talking to other survivors. I have always felt very alone and felt no-one understands (and I do not want anyone to have to experience this), especially with it being my own Father. The feelings I have had, and the experiences resonate with others and it has made me feel more understood, more normal almost. No two experiences are the same even if the circumstances are similar due to a multitude of factors, but there are some common denominators which have brought me comfort. The compassion, awe, and kindness I feel for other survivors, is something I have been able to start to apply to myself, which has been difficult. As a coping mechanism I downplayed, minimized, compared my situation, it is a survival technique that trauma victims use. This meant if I made it small it was not that bad, so therefore I did not have to deal with it. I am thankful for our incredible brains; I think it is fascinating how our brain protects us until we are ready to deal with a situation. Due to the abuse, I am a huge advocate of speaking out about abuse and rape and helping individuals to become empowered and hand the shame back to the abusers. I want to raise awareness so more people can speak out Bravely and be heard and supported and access the right help. I am working with RASASC (rape and sexual abuse Centre) this year to help provide training for the police and other agencies in how to help survivors. I am also going to train as an Independent Sexual Violence advisor, because how you are treated and supported is essential for the healing process. I also want to show people that with the right tools and support they can cope, they can have an amazing life....and that life can be great.

Mettle Monday - From Sea to Summit

By Andrea Mason • 12 Apr, 2021
My sense of adventure and my love of sports started from a very early age. I grew up in a military family which meant we travelled the world as my Dad was posted from one country to another. I went to more than 15 different schools and lost count of the number of houses we lived in. For many children this is extremely daunting, but for some reason I loved it, I was always on an adventure.

Mettle Monday - A Love Letter To My Pain

By Ruth Cooper-Dickson • 29 Mar, 2021
I wrote this letter to articulate how the experience of post-traumatic growth has affected my life and through my own lived-experience, how my friend Pain was difficult to live with for many years. It also highlights how, pain must be present in our lives to experience the beautiful, the pure and the good. Life is a short and yet bittersweet journey, that to appreciate fully will require finding your strength that is forged from within.

Together Series - Chris Michaels

By Chris Michaels • 11 Mar, 2021
It's something that I thought would never happen within my lifetime, I don’t think anyone would have thought the same. For one moment within that initial chaos, it became real that we were to put our lives on hold. Not just that, the whole of life was put on hold for everyone. So all these months later, what have we learned?......or have we? When it was first said it was only going to be 3 weeks in length but those few weeks turned into many months. For most people, everything within their life had to change. They then had to find a way to get through each day. But something I’ve realised that maybe many haven’t was in fact that, 2020 has been the biggest wake up call for humanity. So why would it be the biggest wake up call at all? What I’ve seen was how people had to adapt to this ‘New Normal’ but not just that, they had to find a way to live. I took every opportunity to build and learn. I wrote a book, started a podcast, built a business and expanded my network. But through this time, once again I often questioned a lot of what was happening. We saw a rise in celebrities carrying out morning workouts, focusing on using physical fitness to help us all put us in a positive mental headspace. For once, it seemed that all the things I had been using to help manage my mental health for years was being used to show people how effective it was. Same as going outdoors, exploring the mountains and hills, just to take time out in nature. So did it take a worldwide pandemic for people to actually get up and become active? It seems not just the power of exercise but also we saw, the canals of Venice crystal clear and the smog lifted from the Himalayas to finally see Everest. For once we could see the destruction we’ve done to this earth. But will it last? Absolutely not, it’s not that I’m pessimistic, definitely not. But I don’t have the greatest of faith in humanity at the best of times. Even though, I’ve consistently used my social media to promote positive mental health and for people to think for themselves so they can better themselves. A large majority of people will continue to carry on their usual routines ignorant of the destruction that we’re doing to this planet. Just think of that one piece of rubbish that was lingering in your hand, how powerful that is. Why you may ask, think of that one piece of rubbish, we’ve now got a choice. We can put it in our pocket and put it in a bin and let it be collected to be put in a landfill site to be covered with other millions of pieces of rubbish, slowly decomposing but working its way down to the water table. Or we can drop it with all the rest of the rubbish that another person has dropped, for it to collect and suffocate the seas, pollute the earth, choke innocent animals in their natural surroundings. The choice is yours, but one thing we need to do as a society is have a global rethink on how we protect this planet. Years ago, I came up with a recycling project that was cost effective and which would put an end to landfill sites. I was rejected by Councils and local authorities. It was simple in its approach, filling sealed Olympic sized swimming pool vats with rubbish using chemicals to break down the everyday household rubbish but leaving the materials that could be recycled. But not just that, at every level of the operation, there would be a filtration unit that would clear the rubbish in the chemicals, scrubbed and reused. The factory could be powered by green energy, reducing the carbon footprint. We are slowly choking and suffocating the earth and oceans with all the rubbish from products we consume. It’s a simple choice really, we concentrate on developing ourselves in subjects that are either intrinsically or extrinsically motivating depending on your needs Vs wants but we don’t spend enough time concentrating on how we can all improve the world around us. So whilst we’ve seen that level of self development rise and a large number of people have been intrinsically motivated to create and build a positive lifestyle, there are many that have jumped on the bandwagon and to join in this movement to escape the lockdown blues. So whilst we saw a large number of people out running, cycling, walking in the hills, using this excuse of “Because Boris said we can” what happened when the lockdown was lifted? Did they do it because it was a way to show some kind of compliance or rebellion? How many people actually changed their lifestyles or carried on post lockdown. Did they look at what they needed to become better instead of carrying on being full time members of the Netflix and Dominos club? So if Sir David Attenborough joining Instagram wasn’t enough to show the world that it needs change, that we as a population needs to open our eyes and see the destruction that we’re doing to our planet. Then I don’t know what will make people change. We as a population need to take our level of self accountability to a whole new level. 2020 has been an interesting year, one I hope we all learn from because if we don’t, then it’s only going to get more difficult. Now if I can create a business, write another book, start a podcast to get people talking more, having those important conversations and network on a higher level, then I can’t see why others can’t too. Globally, we’ve got the power to interact and connect to anyone at anytime. So let’s make a positive change, together we can make a change but let’s not carry on being politicians pawns on their global chessboard. If one person can create one positive action, just think of the possibilities of what millions can do?
More Posts
Share by: