“So you’re a quitter now, Dad.”

My 6-year-old son’s words cut to the bone.

But he wasn’t finished yet. He had further opinions on the matter.

“You just didn’t do what you needed to do to lose the belly and stop eating crap. You didn’t do the training and now you’re too fat to run the marathon. Yep it looks quitting to me”

Out of the mouths of babes comes the most brutal truth you’ll ever hear.

This is a story about showing up when everyone—including yourself—thinks you shouldn’t.

And about the fine line between determination and delusion.

THE MARATHON PLAN

It was 2018. I’d been in business 14 years.

I’d started the year with a plan: Run a marathon. Lose weight. Get healthy.

I had run a marathon back in 2006 never having run before in my life. Back then I lost almost 80lbs over 6 months. I needed to lose weight so it just seemed obvious to me. Lets run another marathon

My son Micheál loved doing park runs with me on Saturday mornings. He was 6 years old and thought his dad could do anything.

I started training.

But I kept getting injured.

I had been struggling with my weight for almost 20 years at this stage. I was naturally skinny but when I stopped playing sport competitively I gained weight. I was a yo-yo dieter and I found that 12 years after running my first marathon and losing all the weight that my metabolism was not playing ball this time.

I was also married, a dad of 3 and running a business so life was different than back in 2006.

I kept hurting my calves and was struggling to get beyond 10km. I was seeing an acupuncturist and a phsyio

My physio told me in June: “Des, stop running or you’re going to seriously hurt yourself. Your body can’t handle this weight while running.”

My acupuncturist said the same thing: “You need to stop. This isn’t sustainable.”

So I stopped training.

Made sense. Smart decision. Listen to the experts.

The marathon dream was over.

Until September.

Micheál was watching TV. An ad came on for the Dublin City Half Marathon—happening the next day.

He looked at me: “Hey Dad, aren’t you supposed to be running that tomorrow?”

“No buddy,” I said. “I’m not running it anymore. I got injured. The physio said I shouldn’t do it kid.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then came the words that changed everything:

“You just didn’t do what you needed to do to lose the belly and stop eating crap. You didn’t do the training and now you’re too fat to run the marathon. Yep it looks quitting to me”

THE TURNING POINT

Six years old.

Zero filter.

Complete truth.

Something snapped inside me.

Not anger at him—he was right about everything.

Anger at myself.

I had let him down. What leadership was this for my kids? This just wasn’t good enough

I looked at him: “You know what? I’m not running the HALF marathon tomorrow but I am running the FULL marathon.”

Because if you’re going to prove a 6-year-old wrong about you being a quitter, you might as well go completely insane about it.

42 kilometres. No training in months. 285 pounds.

Impossible.

Which is exactly why I had to do it.

THE RACE

I showed up at that start line.

That’s the first lesson: You can’t finish a race you don’t start.

I’ve seen hundreds of accountants plan to change their business. Plan to fire that client. Plan to raise their prices. Plan to transform their firm. Plan to get a coach. Plan to join a mastermind.

They never show up to the start line.

They’re still planning.

The firms who make real progress. They just keep showing up at the start line

I showed up.

At 285 pounds, untrained, with my physio’s warnings echoing in my head.

But I showed up.

And here’s what happened:

First five kilometres was not too bad. Next five kilometres. This is a miracle. I was flying. First 21 Kilometres in just under 2 hours.

They talk about people hitting the wall in a marathon. They usually hit around 35/36/37km

I hit it at 22km

Every step became agony.

Every kilometre, my body screamed at me to stop.

Every warning from every expert proved correct.

It became a physical and mental battle.

The footpath was just 2 feet away at any time but the words of my son kept ringing in my head – “so you are a quitter now dad”

But I kept moving.

One foot in front of the other.

For 42 kilometres.

And I crossed that finish line.

And my wife and kids cheered me on as I did.

Here’s what I recorded on my phone immediately after finishing—exhausted, emotional, barely able to stand:

“So that’s the Dublin City Marathon completed.

Fairly possible that the before picture looks a little bit better than the after picture.

What are my initial thoughts having completed a marathon without any proper training?

I know some people would disagree with it, and actually undertaking the exercise, but for me, it yet again proves the point that when somebody sets their mind to it, that’s all that matters.

I had a reason. I had a purpose to run the marathon today. I followed through on that purpose and that reason back in January last year.

Yeah, my training didn’t go to plan. Maybe I didn’t lose the weight I needed to lose, but I could have sat at home today and just said, ‘Oh well, sure, we’ll wait till next year.’

It was better to enter the race and run it slow and require a little bit of mind over matter, and require a little bit of heart, rather than not entering the race at all, not turning up.

I achieved my purpose.

Yes, I would love to have run the marathon 80 pounds lighter and about two hours quicker. But it doesn’t matter.

I won anyway, just by turning up, taking the step, taking massive action, and getting a result.”

I believed every word of that in that moment.

I’d shown up. I’d taken massive action. I’d finished.

I had shown resilience. My son could not call me a quitter now.

Mission accomplished.

Right?

THE RECKONING

Here’s what I couldn’t see in that moment of triumph:

My son didn’t call me a quitter because I didn’t run the marathon.

He called me a quitter because I didn’t do what was necessary to the lose weight and prepare.

The marathon wasn’t the point.

The marathon was the distraction from the point.

I could run 42 kilometres at 285 pounds and call it a victory.

But I still weighed 285 pounds.

I still hadn’t done the underlying work.

I still hadn’t changed the habits.

I still hadn’t addressed what my son saw so clearly:

I quit on the hard stuff. The daily discipline. The uncomfortable changes. The real transformation.

And then I showed up for one spectacular, painful, impressive act of willpower to prove I wasn’t a quitter.

But I was.

Just not in the way I thought.

THE DICHOTOMY

Here’s what that marathon taught me—and it’s taken me years to understand both sides of this lesson:

Truth #1: Showing up matters. Massively.

I was right in that video: It was better to enter the race and run it slow than to not enter at all.

You can’t finish a race you don’t start.

I’ve watched hundreds of firm owners plan to:

• Fire that toxic client
• Raise their prices
• Exit that partnership
• Transform their firm
• Join the mastermind
• Take on the coach

They never show up to the start line.

They’re still planning. Still preparing. Still waiting for the perfect time.

I showed up.

At 285 pounds. Untrained. Against expert advice.

But I showed up.

And because I showed up, I gave myself a chance to finish.

That’s not nothing.

Taking massive action—even imperfect action—beats perfect planning every single time.

But…

Truth #2: Showing up to the race doesn’t mean you’ve done the work.

My son was right.

I didn’t do what was necessary to lose the belly.

I didn’t stop eating crap.

I didn’t do the daily discipline.

Then I showed up for the one-day spectacular achievement to prove I wasn’t a quitter.

But what did I actually achieve?

I ran a marathon. Once.

Then what?

Did I lose the weight? No.

Did I change the habits? No.

Did I do the underlying deep work my son called me out for not doing?

No.

I showed up for the impressive thing. I quit on the important thing.

THE PATTERN

For 21 years in business, I’ve been doing this:

I show up and do the spectacular but sometimes don’t do the critical work on the foundational.

I’ll run the marathon at 285 pounds.

But I won’t do the daily work to get to 205 pounds.

I’ll launch the business and get massive results.

But I won’t always tackle the mundane that build the systems that create the leverage.

I’ll terminate the relationship that wasn’t working after 16 years.

But I will miss developing the boundaries to avoid dysfunctional partnerships in the first place.

I’ll hire the C-suite team with massive potential.

But I won’t do the due diligence to see the red flags.

I’m exceptional at showing up for the hard thing.

I need to get much better at doing the boring work and the simple things that would make the hard thing unnecessary.

Now here is the harsh reality and brutal honesty. I still struggle with my weight and I continue to peel away the layers of why and how this is such a challenge for me. I know I will get there. For me nutrition and weight are part of my journey that I must face and will face. I have tried many things many times and I will not quit but I have to be honest with myself and not hide from the flaws that underpin my reality

THE LESSON

So here’s what I’ve learned—and it’s taken me 21 years to understand both sides of this and find balance:

Lesson 1: Show up. Take massive action. Don’t wait for perfect.

My video was right about this part.

You can’t win if you don’t enter the race.

Imperfect action beats perfect planning.

Showing up scared is better than not showing up at all.

If you’re waiting for:

• The perfect time to fire that client
• The ideal moment to raise prices
• Complete certainty before making the change
• All the weight to be lost before running the marathon

You’ll never start.

Show up. Take the step. Get a result.

That part of me was right.

Lesson 2: But showing up isn’t enough if you’re avoiding the real work.

My son was right about this part.

The marathon wasn’t the goal. The underlying health was the goal.

Running 42 kilometres at 285 pounds isn’t an achievement—it’s a distraction from the fact that you’re still 285 pounds.

In your business, what’s your marathon?

What spectacular thing are you showing up for that lets you avoid the boring, daily, foundational work and the simple things that would make the hard thing unnecessary.

Are you:

• Creating new services instead of fixing the delivery of existing foundational ones?
• Hiring more people instead of developing the people you have?
• Chasing new clients instead of serving current clients exceptionally?
• Chasing shiny objects and silver bullet software’s instead of implementing systems?
• Creating more offers instead of making one offer excellent?

Are you running marathons to avoid doing what’s necessary to build the underlying fitness?

That’s what I did in that marathon and my 6-year-old son saw it clearer than I did.

THE TWO QUESTIONS

So here’s what I’m asking you—and myself:

Question 1: What race are you not showing up for?

What transformation are you planning but not starting?

What conversation are you avoiding?

What massive action are you delaying?

Show up. Don’t wait for perfect. Enter the race.

Question 2: What is your real work?

What  boring, daily, foundational work are you avoiding and what are the simple things that you are not doing that would make the hard thing unnecessary.

What impressive or reactive thing are you doing that distracts you from the important critical thing you’re not doing?

What’s your marathon at 285 pounds?

Both questions matter.

Show up to what you’re avoiding.

But make sure you’re showing up for the right race.

Not the impressive one.

The important one.

Tell me in the comments:

What race are you not showing up for?

And what’s your real work?

Tomorrow: Lesson 12 – “The Subscription Economy & The Stu McLaren Lesson That Changed Everything”