Category: Resilience

Walking True

Walking True

Almost the last thing I did in 2021 was walk. It could be the year of the mask but it was the walking recovery year for me. After having a chunk of muscle removed from my right leg (with a tumour) in September 2020, I set out to do what I had endeavoured to do in 2020 and that was to walk at least 365 times.

Under that goal you can have a day off, but be warned you have to make it up with two a day if you slacken off! I did 374 walks covering 1582.82 kilometres (I know, it’s the App – keeps it exactly – there’s no hiding). That would have been a reasonable marathon buildup distance back in the day. The average walk was 4.24km and the average per day was 4.33. It’s lower than I would like but I’ve noticed my resilience for longer walks building and 2022 will be about maintaining and building an average walk of 5km. I loosened my “minimum 2km” rule on account of the surgery but very few walks were below 2km. All walks were deliberate (that’s a rule), but I incorporated other activity like shopping, walking at my little piece of land, and occasionally to and from work.

I listened to lots of music (became addicted to True by Spandau Ballet on the walks) and audio books – including 1984 with a mention almost exactly ten years ago on this blog (by Orwell – one insight: it’s happening in parts of the world), Brave New World (Huxley – it could happen), Animal Farm – I love this book, something about the farm, not just the story (Orwell – it’s happened in many places), A Promised Land (Obama – opportunities missed from fear of one’s own authenticity), The Tragedie of MacBeth (a play! – Shakespeare – violence begets violence), Leading Change (Kotter – it takes longer than you think), Skin in the Game (Taleb – only when you have actual skin in your game (work) do you have the rights to be heard), Apropos of Nothing (Allen – he’s funny, very funny and showing humour and grace when under attack is effective), Wuthering Heights (E Bronte – it was every bit as good as it was in the sixth form, and shaped me more than I realised – even the location of my new build to a degree), The Road to Wigan Pier (Orwell – cheer up for goodness sakes!).

From walk #5 of 2022 this morning – Arthurs Point, Queenstown

I walked in Auckland, Queenstown and Tauranga. Fewer places than I would usually, because of lockdowns and the resulting lesser travel. I have many favourite walks but standing out is Ohinerau – Mt Hobson – a gorgeous Maunga with spectacular views and sunsets and very close to home, the Arrow River by Arrowtown. Cornwall Park and the Domain are unbeatable really too. Maungawhau (Mt Eden) tests the cardiovascular system the best.

Reading back at this blog as I drafted it I cringed a little at the mention again of my cancer, but it’s part of me (well I live in hope it’s not physically!), and shaped me in unexpected ways. It made resilience real in 2021, it forced me to face existential questions early on and removed a fear of disease. Having it in the back of my mind – brought to the front of the mind every x-ray check up – has sharpened me in 2021. Live for now and get on with what I want to get done. Build the house, spend time with those that matter, and none with those that take the energy.

This is of course a leadership blog but after over ten years on it, there’s one constant which keeps me grounded in it and why sharing is necessary for leading. Authenticity. It’s everything in leadership. No degrees, accolades, books published or other high-sounding commendations can make up for a lack of it. Ask those who are led.

And grace – my word to start the year – we’re all human, so I try and will try more show grace in good times and in adversity. An old-fashioned word that captures how I’m feeling. And True? That’s the song I got addicted to on the walks. No idea why, but it’s true.

hari tau hou – happy new year!

Stephen

p.s. the featured image is also Arthurs Point, Queenstown this morning – a stiff walk uphill!







	


	


			
				


			

			
Day 628
		
	
Day 628

	

		

A team member said the other day that we know how long we’d been in lockdown because my blog posts have a running tally. Well they did during the first lockdown in 2020 and the last time I totalled it was 19 August when it was 510 days since the start of the first lockdown. If you’re interested it’s 628 days today. And if you live to the average age of a Kiwi that’s over two percent of your life since we started this lockdown and restriction journey. So what?





Well whatever happens,  I’m well past the waiting for life to return to how it was – there is no return – this is it. Get on with it. Which means getting vaccinated, including a booster soon, embracing how we work, which for the knowledge worker, will have some level of flexibility. A combination of in the office, working at home, working away from home (if you’re fortunate enough to have other options), and working when it suits. And it means not bothering if you can’t do one or the other, just working how you can, or as the case may be, how you have to.





Going back to the office for the last week felt like light relief – I counted only six people on my “home floor” of level 29 on Monday – so it was very light.  In fairness Monday was not of my business unit’s “designated days” as was prescribed at the commencement of the week – soon gone with new government rules – but it quickly swelled by Thursday to feel a bit more challenging to find a space.  There was lots of “isn’t it great to be back in the office” and “so pleased to be out of the house“. I’m not sure what to make of this yet – will this be the refrain on 17 January when we start back after the holidays?! 





There’s a switch taking place – people are tired from lockdown work – I’m tired from staring at the screen too much, but I don’t think we will, or will even want to, go back to “9-5” in the office five days a week. Of course the switch started long before Covid-19, but it’s accelerated beyond all the change plans, carefully thought through, could have anticipated. When I look back at our flexible working plans before “Day 1”, an educated guess might be that it would have been at least 2025 before we got to where we are now.





The future of motoring has arrived – here’s a fully electric Polestar 2 EV





So, the future may have arrived. For once! All my life I’ve looked forward to the future and when it’s arrived, most of the time it was so gradual I never noticed it. Even the internet seemed cautious, transitional, and obvious, when it arrived. And we’re still waiting on flying cars (they were supposed to be here long ago!), and robots are generally confined to places where we don’t see them (I hope).





On reflection, my counting the days of the lockdown was partly to tick off the days before we got out of it. “It” turned out to be the switch to flexibility we had been seeking. Although it was for reasons we wouldn’t wish for, we can look at the day numbers now and say with some degree of confidence that it’s day 628 since the future of flexible working arrived for certain. 





Stephen





p.s EVs and space tourism are here too – my paternal grandmother was born this day in 1902, in Lilydale, Tasmania. I wonder what she would make of all of this – having lived through the Spanish Flu and two world wars? I reckon she’d take it in her stride with a chuckle and be grateful at least something was happening! And she’d be up for an EV and a trip to space for certain. She loved an adventure.

	


	


			
				


			

			
Day 510
		
	
Day 510

	

		

Well it would be since we first went into Lockdown on 26 March 2020 although I have to acknowledge that there’s been a couple of gaps in my blogging since then! Out walking this evening the roads were silky black and wet. I counted five buses – two only with interior lights on, only one passenger all up. It seemed fitting for the audiobook I was listening to  – The Road to Wigan Pier –  a grim first person account of depression-era England in the Industrial North, by George Orwell. I selected it on account of another listen to Orwell’s Animal Farm, a book I first read in High School. It’s a depressing yet delightful book all in one.  I’m not sure what I make of  The Road to Wigan Pier yet, I’ll need to complete it.










Since Day 1 when we were first placed in a national state of emergency and into Level 4 lockdown, recorded global deaths have gone from 14,000 to almost 4.4 million. It’s trite to say, we’ve changed and in the middle of change. 





Reflecting back 510 days ago, it seemed like the pandemic would be over in a few months – I’d put my trip to Ireland to see my son and his family  – back to July “to be on the safe side”, and I was confident life would be back to normal in relatively short order. It started to, although not the travel, until I had a soft tissue sarcoma identified in my right leg on 12 June. Big dates stay with me and I’ve passed the first anniversary of that find with treatment and surgery behind me, although there’s ten years (I hope!) of follow-up. Because it’s not far off the anniversary of surgery and the weather  is similar, I can’t help but feel slightly disoriented – am I home recovering, is it a lockdown, or just normal working from home? When I have a little pain in my leg, am I back to last year or is it just a little pain that’s normal these days?





The anxietyometer was up a bit yesterday, settled but it’s still elevated. All the complications and disturbances of the 510 days are back to the fore for a fresh look. I think that’s a good thing.





Stephen






	


	


			
				


			

			
An Honest Climb
		
	
An Honest Climb

	

		

Tobins Track has a steep incline of about 2.5 kilometres from Arrowtown. A man on a cycle moving barely quicker than me on foot, went past about two thirds of the way up. “It’s a good one isn’t it?” I said. “It’s an honest climb” he replied. As I approached the landing, with a view over Arrowntown, across to the Crown Range and a peek of Lake Wakatipu with downtown Queenstown nestled in the foreground, I felt quite emotional. Last time I’d done the walk was in September last year, recovering from radiation treatment and two weeks out from surgery to remove a soft tissue sarcoma in my leg.





I knew I had a problem during the first lockdown almost a year ago and blogged at the very end of my last daily post on the final day of the lockdown that my leg was still a bit sore. Six weeks later I knew I had a tumour, soon diagnosed as malignant and needing treatment and surgery.





The cyclist was resting at the landing when I reached it. He told me I’d done well. I told him the last time I’d been up here was just before surgery for cancer – “been there done that” he said. Nothing more needed to be said. We enjoyed the view.





Over the last nine months I’ve felt many blogs circling in my mind about the experience, but nothing felt right. It hurt, it felt private and it felt very uncertain at times. I kept a handwritten diary – The Sarcoma Diary – which was a source of calm when I felt the need to look back at it. 





Arrowtown seen from above during Autumn





And yet my story is extremely positive – my prognosis now a first world problem compared to many – I limp a bit and possibly always will –  and stairs are a challenge. 





My resilience has been tested, and at times I considered existential questions, although they passed, and looking in the rear view mirror it’s slightly unreal. More mundane work and home life concerns soon took hold – the meeting at 7.30am, really? and why is the gas bill so variable?





So coming out of this cancer has felt honest, with a clear head and a tight focus on what’s important.  All the things I already know, but with an added honesty that keeps me focussed.





I told one of my specialists that having cancer was one of the best things that’s happened to me. Apparently it’s not that uncommon.





Having said that, I know that cancer is a terrible disease. I’ve heard more stories in these last nine months with bad endings than I thought could exist in my circle of family and friends. I know that I’m blessed and for that I’m very grateful.





Stephen