Global Perspectives

I wanted to write a blog about dreams coming true -   how I conquered the sub-three-hour marathon.  But as I sit here, barely two hours after crossing the line, that isn’t a story I can tell. I ran Frankfurt in 3:04.35 officially (3.03 without the loo break!).  I’ve probably run more than a dozen marathons in my life, and my expectations tend to outstrip either my ability or my execution. The gap between what I hoped for and what I achieve can be a difficult place to sit. Today was no different. I wanted sub-three. I didn’t get it. My two great friends, Phil and Jon both achieved their goals. Phil ran 2:59:58 (incredible). Jon ran like a pro for 3:03. They set out their goals and nailed it.  Does coming up short reveal some fundamental weakness? Does failure tell us something deterministic about ourselves, some immutable truth about our character?  We want the things we achieve to tell us that we’re good enough. But the marathon is a dangerous peg on whic...

This week, I proudly saw my son performing at the Oxford Playhouse in a newly updated English translation of Chekhov’s The Seagull . I’ve never read Chekhov, so my son’s (quite brillaint) acting is proving an education. Good theatre is timeless because it tells us something about humanity that we have a proclivity to forget, avoid or hide from.  When The Seagull premiered in 1896, it was a disaster. Audiences disparaged its unconventional form, with its emphasis on subtext and insinuation over literalism. What is clear is that every character in the play is unhappy. It’s a series of portraits of the different ways we struggle emotionally. There is the grinding misery of poverty and physical hardship, which attracts zero sympathy (unromantic psychological pain). The neurotic is consumed by what might go wrong; the narcissist by the inconvenient truth that other people have lives of their own; the melancholic remains blighted by sadness despite success. Misery takes the form of ...

The other day, someone said to me: “I couldn’t do what you’re doing. I need to be busy. I need to be doing things.” Fair enough. Each to their own. But busyness feels like a trap that I want to use this year to wriggle free from. I’m going to give life in the slow lane a whirl.  There’s a concept in running called periodisation. You train hard for a block of weeks, then ease back, allowing your body to recover and adapt. The fitness gains don’t come just from the training itself, but from giving your body time to absorb the work. Nature understands this. Fields lie fallow. Heathland is burned to create the conditions for new growth. Seasons turn. Things die back, endings happen, and space opens up for something new. So that’s the idea for my year out: to make some space, see the world from different vantage points and replenish my stores of energy and enthusiasm.  I’m feeling excited. Here’s a sketch for the year ahead  Chapter one: The running monk First up, a mo...

It’s been four weeks since my last day at the Mental Health Foundation, after eight years as Chief Executive and over ten years in total. I’m taking a break from work for a year - or what some now call micro retirement.  It’s been like stepping through the wardrobe in the Narnia tales - blinking into the light of a world where things feel and look suddenly different. I like it here but I’m still coming to terms with the change of pace.   I underestimated how enriching leaving an organisation can be. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to say goodbye properly. To colleagues, donors, supporters and people who have been part of the journey.  I get it was a self selecting audience and those who were less enamoured with my decisions or approach probably weren’t queuing up to say goodbye. But it was still moving to hear generous and uplifting feedback from colleagues - some of whom I’d worked with for over a decade. We (I am guessing it’s not just me) spend so much time carryi...