David is an Executive Athlete today, but on the day I met him he had given up. As he says, he was “hiding from real life and hiding from the truth”. He used humour as a way of keeping criticism of his expanding waistline at bay. He was frustrated and embarrassed, and convinced that exercise just wasn’t for him anymore.

Deep down, David had known he had a problem for sometime. He knew his weight was an issue, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it or ask for help. “As a moderately successful person”, he says, “it’s hard to expose yourself in such a way, to others and yourself, to be honest with yourself about how overweight you are, and how you have let yourself go. It’s embarrassing, it’s scary, and it certainly doesn’t fit with the sense of ego you have as a successful person.”

David worried about his weight every day, but what he didn’t know was that he wasn’t the only one worrying. Two people had front row seats to David’s struggle with obesity, and both were anxious spectators. David’s wife, Sam, and his executive assistant, Jess, had been watching as David, once a vibrant and beaming professional, came to prefer above all things the safety of the couch.

One day, when he was returning to his desk, David overheard a phone call between Jess and Sam. Rather than interrupting, he stopped and listened. They were talking about David’s weight and the effect it was having on his life. The words cut deeper than before because David wasn’t able to defend himself with a joke. What concerned him most of all, though, was the tone of the conversation. Years of using humour to deflect criticism of his weight had convinced him that he was the butt of everybody’s fat jokes, but Jess and Sam weren’t laughing. As he listened more, it became clear that they were scared about what the future held for David if he continued on the path he was on.

Not much later, David was on a family holiday at his parents’ home in Wagga Wagga. David’s mother filmed him playing with the kids in the backyard pool. When he watched the video that night, he didn’t like what he saw. He turned off the video and walked over to the scale in the bathroom. He weighed 110kg.

David had fallen prey to what those in the world of professional sport call ‘the creep’, the almost invisible lowering of standards that leads athletes to stop doing the extra work that led them to success. The true champions fight against the creep by setting new goals for themselves at every turn. The middle and back of the pack are full of people who once vied for the lead but have since allowed themselves to slide steadily backward. This is the creep, and for the executive, it can be all too easy to let the creep set in. The demands of the job make it all too easy to forget to take care of themselves. Since their health declines slowly, it is often hard for them to notice as they slide into obesity and sickness. Worst of all, their personal relationships suffer. Like so many other overweight executives, David was missing all those special moments with his beautiful wife and his growing kids.

David had allowed the creep to set it, but he had recognised the cost before it was too late. He saw the look of disappointment in his wife’s and his children’s eyes. This realisation became David’s moment of resolution. He knew that the time had come for him to do something, but he also knew he couldn’t do it on his own. He had tried once before to take up running, but on his first run he didn’t even make it two kilometres before he had to stop. He says he felt like he was having a heart attack: “I remember finishing it and thinking, ‘I can’t do this’, and at that moment I gave up.” He was determined not to let himself be defeated so easily again.

It was only a few days later that I met David for the first time. He turned up to his first session with Jess and Leanne, two of the fittest girls in his office. David let the girls set the pace, and before long he was sprawled on his back in the Domain. Jess and Leanne joked that neither of them would be giving David mouth to mouth if he stopped breathing. 

A week later I was sitting in David’s plush corner office, where he told me that he would let me train him. “But”, he said, looking me straight in the eye, “if you push me, I will quit”. That was then.

This is now. I am writing this on a Saturday in August. It has been six years since our first session and at 7am this morning David deadlifted 140kg. He is still four weeks away from reaching his goal of 150kg, but he and I both know he’ll get there. These early-morning sessions have become an important ritual for David. They help prepare him for his always-full weekend schedule. This weekend, his son Will has a rugby game and his daughter has a hockey game. He’s going to be at both games. He will spend the rest of the day playing with his niece, his nephew and the kids while his wife does a trial session at the gym David attends during the week.

After completing his fifth City2Surf with Will two weeks ago, David wants to improve his 1.6km time so I have written him a program to help him set a new personal best. After his Sunday morning sprint session, he’ll be heading to Centennial Park to start training for the 90km Sydney to Wollongong bike ride, which he’ll also be doing with Will. Next weekend, he’ll be one of my competitors in the Nike Fastest Mile event on Saturday, and we will be teeing off in the Sunday comp at Ryde-Parramatta Golf Course.

This is the same man who, not six years ago, preferred the safety of the couch to something as physically undemanding as a family walk in the park. He’s physically transformed. He’s lost 32kg of fat and added 7kg of muscle, and he’s done it all by following the Compass. His willingness to say yes to anything physical, which stopped surprising me long ago, has taken him a long way. But as much as he loves to face east, he’s also made sure to orient himself to the other directions as well. He executes his nutrition program, rests when he needs rest, and he calms his mind when he feels stressed.

David enjoys all of the obvious benefits of exercise: he has as much energy as he did when he was a teenager, he’s happier and he’s healthier. His body is stronger and so are his relationships. He’s also become a powerful and inspiring leader. When I met him he was in a technically specialised executive role. Today he is COO at eftpos. His newfound fearlessness in the face of challenges and his ability to engage deeply with stakeholders at every level made him a natural fit for the C suite.

David, like any executive, was time-poor but he didn’t allow that to stop him. He saw this for the hollow excuse it was. He says, “People will tell you it’s the real reason, but it’s not. The real reason is you are afraid—afraid that you can’t do it. You’re afraid of everything you should be doing and doing well.” But behind the door you are most afraid to open is your greatest opportunity for achievement. David describes the beginning of his journey as “f***ing scary”. What he got out of overcoming that fear and winning is an immense sense of pride and accomplishment: “It wasn’t part of who I was, but it is a fundamental part of who I have become.”

Becoming an Executive Athlete involves staring down your biggest fear and winning. It will be one of the greatest moments of personal growth in your adult life. To be able to transform your health from your biggest liability into your greatest asset will change how you define yourself as a leader, partner and parent.

As an Executive Athlete the best years of your life are ahead of you.

To create an Executive Athlete, we need to start with the basic skills of movement. We need to ensure that the executive makes it to the end of every exercise session. They must possess the freedom of movement that the athlete enjoys if they are going to become an Executive Athlete.

The unhealthy executive lives with constant or nearly constant pain. This is the inevitable result of a weak frame that is supporting far too much weight.

Imagine a rope bridge that stretches across a river. Its wooden planks and beams seem to be in good enough shape. The ropes are a little frayed but look strong enough. You step onto the bridge. As you near its centre, you can feel the rope tighten in your hands.

You can hear it begin to groan with the strain. By the time you reach the middle, the bridge itself is twisting and has distorted out of shape.

Finally, as you watch, the rope snaps.

Think of the rope as your muscles, the wood planks and beams as your bones. When you become weak and heavy, the same thing that happens to the bridge happens to your body.

Muscles tighten, bones creak and ache, posture gets bent out of shape. It’s only a matter of time before something snaps and you find yourself facing a painful injury, one that might forever affect your quality of life.

For the physically inactive executive this process also follows a predictable pattern:

· Tight calves, hamstrings, groin, hip flexors, lower back and thoracic spine

· Poor posture (shoulders come forward, excessive pelvic tilt)

· Pain in the knees, lower back, shoulders and neck.

The longer the executive is physically inactive, the weaker and heavier they become.

Tightness, poor posture and often excruciating pain get worse. Natural movements like walking and running that combine velocity with full body weight damage joints that suffer from bad biomechanics.

Moving hurts.

Constant pain is a mental distraction. Physical discomfort significantly reduces one’s ability to pay close attention or to retain information.

Long days behind the desk or at the boardroom table are sources of tremendous discomfort. At the end of a long day of sitting, the unhealthy executive needs to lie down to get relief.

Constant pain saps mental, physical and emotional energy.

It derails nutrition and exercise plans and makes it harder to engage with others, affecting personal and professional relationships. Worst of all, it drains resilience, making it harder with each passing day to push through setbacks.

The executive who is in pain is hanging on by a thread. It’s only a matter of time before the rope snaps.