Coherence Is Trained, Not Communicated This is the second part of an ongoing series on performance under pressure, drawing lessons from elite sport coaching for leadership. Rowing: Physics, Not Poetry In elite rowing, the fastest crew does not necessarily win. The crew that applies power most coherently usually does. George Pocock, whose boats carried Olympic champions in 1936, once said, “Eight hearts must beat as one in an eight-oared shell or you don’t have a crew.” He was

What sport reveals about coaching and leadership, and why it matters now Sport has always fascinated me, not because of trophies or records, but because of what it reveals when pressure becomes unavoidable. In professional sport, pressure is not abstract. It is visible, public, and time-bound. Results are known immediately. Selection decisions are explicit. When performance drops, there is little room to hide behind narratives, slide decks, or delayed explanations. Something

There comes a moment where doing more stops helping. Not suddenly. Not dramatically.Nothing breaks on the outside. The strategies that used to work still function. You are competent. Reliable. Respected. You still deliver. From the outside, your life looks intact. Productive. Even successful. But inside, something has shifted. Thinking harder no longer brings clarity. It brings noise. Pushing through doesn’t create momentum, only friction. Rest doesn’t feel restorative. It fe

The real breakdown is happening in the human nervous system. This is not a metaphor. It is the reality confronting organizations today. The systems we work within have outpaced the psychological capacity of the humans inside them, and the signals are everywhere: burnout, quiet quitting, rising conflict, declining engagement, and a noticeable crisis in people’s ability to stay grounded under pressure. Leaders are trying to solve these symptoms with more strategy and structure,

For decades, we selected leaders based on titles, achievements, pressure tolerance, and the ability to “perform” under stress. We rewarded the loudest person in the room. Today it’s breaking — quietly but unmistakably. Burnout. Nervous-system overload. Leaders who look successful on paper but feel empty inside. The world is not lacking talent. It’s lacking presence. We don’t need more people who can perform. We need people who can stay human in the noise. The next era of lead

I just finished watching Boots (based on The Pink Marine book) on Netflix, and it stirred something in me. The series left me wondering: Are we trying to discover who we really are — or are we fighting it? For years, I believed growth meant constant improvement. Fixing. Optimizing. Becoming a “better” version of myself. But over time — and through a lot of inner work — I’ve realized something different: We don’t transform by fighting ourselves. We transform by understanding w

When I started coaching rugby for kids, I had to do it in German - a language I had to learn. My sentences were broken, some words were wrong, others completely missed (all that still the case). But here’s what happened: the kids still listened, played, learned, and grew. We won, we lost, but the lesson stayed with me: you don’t need perfect words to have an impact. It reminded me that leadership isn’t about polished speeches or perfect delivery. It’s about presence, honesty,

Yesterday I was back training in the pool. Here’s the truth I rediscovered: you don’t get better by pushing harder. You get better by relaxing into the water. When your body is tense, you fight the water - and the harder you push, the slower you move. But when you release tension, breathe into rhythm, and let the water support you - you glide. Swimmers call it "the feel for the water". That moment reminded me: Leadership and life are often the same. Real breakthroughs rarely

The other day, my 7yo daughter picked up my work journal and drew in it. The old me would have gotten angry. This is my professional space. But then I realized: there is no separation. There is no work life and home life. There's just one life. She looked up at me and said: "But my drawing isn't perfect". And i told her: "It's perfect just the way it is. I love it." That moment hit me: We spend so much energy trying to keep things perfect, controlled, "professional".  But the

The gold medalist. The World Cup champion. The one on top of the podium. Second place? Forgotten. The losses, the near-misses, the heartbreaks - erased. That’s what society teaches us: Win at all costs. Perform. Stay strong. Don’t fail. But here’s the truth: Our true self remembers what the world forgets. The losses. The missed shots. The tears after the penalty shootout. The collapse under pressure. And it’s not weakness. It’s wisdom. Because when we stop hiding behind masks

They show up when I’m swimming, running in nature, or sitting in a sauna. Moments when I’m alone, without screens, without noise. It’s almost ironic: we work harder and harder at our desks hoping for breakthroughs - but clarity often arrives when we step away. Not in the rush, but in the pause. I used to track every run with a GPS watch, checking my pace every 30 seconds. Now I often run without it. I tune in to my body, the rhythm of my breath, the sound of the forest. Somet