A letter about becoming. About choosing depth over comfort, resilience over ease, and the kind of man I hope my son grows up watching.

I haven’t told many people this yet, but my next challenge has been confirmed.
In just 19 weeks, I’ll be standing on a start line in Hawaii, attempting the Kona 70.3 Ironman.

When I came back from the desert last year, I arrived home feeling more like myself than I had in a long time. That might sound strange, given what the Marathon des Sables put me through. Six back-to-back marathons. The heat. The sand. The exhaustion. The moments I wasn’t sure I could go on.

But these challenges I’m drawn to… they’re not about medals, or finish lines, or T-shirts. They’re about what happens before the start. How they shape my days. How they structure my mind. How they quietly improve the way I live.

They make me more intentional.
More considered.
More disciplined.

They force better decisions. About how I train. How I eat. How I sleep. How I show up, in front of you!

In the Sahara, I met my limit for the first time in my life. Truly met it. Physically, mentally, emotionally. And when I moved past it, when I kept going despite every part of me wanting to stop, something shifted. The pride I felt wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was deep. And it stayed with me.

This Ironman feels different. New territory. Three disciplines instead of one. Heat. Humidity. Pace. Unfamiliar water. Unfamiliar roads. Right now, I’m not even sure I move very quickly. I got a lot of work to do to get ready for this one…

But I do know this: I know how to endure.

And maybe that’s something I want you to understand one day.

When I was younger, before you, before responsibility, before life got fuller and heavier and more complex, I didn’t need events or challenges to feel like myself. I had energy. Freedom. Autonomy. I could be selfish with my time. Disciplined with my decisions.

When you become a parent, everything rearranges. 

A new hierarchy appears.
And rightly so.

You become the centre. And I become the support.

But somewhere in that shift, it’s easy to lose parts of yourself. To shrink a little. To choose comfort over depth. To stop doing the things that stretch you.

I don’t want that to be your memory of me.

I recently learned about something called Misogi. An old Japanese practice. Traditionally, it involved standing under freezing waterfalls to cleanse the mind, body and spirit. Today, it’s understood as a once-a-year challenge so difficult that failure is a real possibility… and success changes how you see yourself.

Not a goal. A confrontation.

Something that forces you to meet who you are, not who you say you are.

I think that’s why this speaks to me.

I’m not chasing comfort, I’m chasing depth.

I want to keep growing. Keep learning. Keep setting a standard for you, not with words, but with how I live. So you grow up knowing what commitment looks like. What dedication looks like. What it means to choose the harder path when the easier one is available.

From the Sahara to Kona, these adventures are building a story. A memory bank. A life that is full, not just busy.

One day, you might read this and think your dad was a little mad. Some people do, but they fail recognise my reasons for doing it. 

 I hope you see that I was trying to be brave. Trying to stay awake to life. Trying to show you that becoming a man doesn’t mean becoming small.

It means becoming deliberate.

Always,
Daddy