I hope you’ve had a good Christmas and a chance to pause over Boxing Day.
This time of year tends to slow things down just enough to allow reflection, and this December I found myself thinking about three moments in my life, separated by 15 years, 10 years, and 5 years, that quietly reshaped who I am.
Not through sudden breakthroughs.
But through disruption, adaptation, and deliberate reinvention.
The 15 – When Life Interrupted the Plan
In 2010, I was having my best season as an amateur endurance athlete. I’d already completed an Ironman that year. Training was strong, structured, and purposeful. Endurance sport wasn’t just something I did; it was part of how I understood myself.
Then, towards the end of that year, I was involved in a car accident.
And just like that, the plan stopped.
I could no longer train. Ironman was no longer an option. There was no strategic decision to make; only acceptance. Looking back, that forced stillness was harder than the physical recovery itself. High achievers tend to cope well with pressure and challenge; what we cope less well with is having something taken away.
In 2011, a doctor described me as being in a low mood. This was something I hadn’t recognised myself. But when you go from training 15–25 hours a week to nothing, the impact on your sense of identity is significant. Recovery wasn’t quick, and it wasn’t heroic.
This idea, that enforced quiet or withdrawal isn’t weakness, but often a form of self-protection. It is something I explored in more depth in an earlier piece on why high achievers often go quiet at pivotal moments.
What that interruption did allow, though, was space.
Space to live differently.
Space to loosen routines.
Space to explore other parts of life that had been parked for years.
My wife and I travelled extensively during that period, and eventually to over 60 countries. Without the constraints of training blocks, alarms, and rigid schedules, life widened. There was freedom in not worrying about early mornings, missed sessions, or the constant internal discipline that endurance sport demands.
That same space also allowed me to pursue something I would never have attempted while training at that level: an MBA. It became a different kind of challenge, mental rather than physical, and one that stretched me in entirely new ways. I graduated in 2015, a year that would quietly mark another turning point.
Letting go of one identity created room for others.
The 10 – Returning to Challenge, Not the Past
About five years after the accident, something returned.
Not Ironman specifically, but the need for challenge again.
Perhaps it was the contrast. After years of travel and the sustained mental focus of the MBA, I found myself missing a physical test… something that demanded presence, discipline, and discomfort in a different way.
That led to the Étape du Tour, the Queen stage of the Tour de France. A brutal route through the Alps, ridden two days before the professionals, in 35°C heat. Long climbs, steep gradients, and the psychological battle that comes when your tyres feel like they’re sticking to melting tarmac.
I completed it. Quietly, without fanfare.
But it mattered.
It wasn’t a return to who I had been.
It was a redefinition of what challenge looked like now.
That period also coincided with hiring my first coach. Coaching helped me shift my thinking; away from what I couldn’t do, and toward what was still possible. I didn’t rebuild alone, and that lesson has stayed with me ever since.
It reinforced something I now see repeatedly in my work: when you’re inside the storm, perspective is the first thing you lose; which is why external challenge and reflection matter more than most leaders realise.
The 5 – Deliberate Reinvention
The third turning point came five years ago, and in many ways it was a continuation of everything that began in 2010.
In spring 2020, my wife and I were partway through a three-week tour of Myanmar. When we returned to the UK, the country entered lockdown. It felt like an unexpected full stop, a natural pause after years of movement, travel, and transition.
By the end of that year, three deliberate decisions were in motion:
a new career, a new house in a new city, and the decision to start a family.
None of these were reactionary. They were considered choices, informed by the experiences, disruptions, and lessons of the previous decade and a half.
What the 15, the 10, and the 5 Taught Me
These numbers aren’t milestones to celebrate.
They’re markers of transition.
They taught me that endurance isn’t just physical.
That identity evolves whether we plan for it or not.
And that reinvention rarely looks impressive while you’re living it.
Some challenges break routines.
Others rebuild perspective.
And some quietly redefine what success looks like altogether.
Many of the themes touched on here, such as interruption, identity, momentum, confidence, and reinvention; are threads I return to often. If this reflection resonated, you’ll find those ideas explored more fully across the blog.
This time of year is a good moment to ask:
Which chapter are you in; the interruption, the return, or the rebuild?
And what might it be asking of you next?
PS Merry Christmas and all the best for the New Year.
I’m Laurence Loxam – I’ve pushed limits in business, on mountains, and at the finish line.
Now I help elite professionals do the same, pushing past the point most people stop.
I coach CEOs, doctors, lawyers, and founders who’ve hit success, but still feel there’s more.
Together, we unlock clarity, sharpen confidence, and lead with conviction.
🔗 loxamconsultingltd.org
📩 Ready for your next leadership breakthrough? Let’s connect.
Leave a Reply