When The Snow Started Coming Down

Don't let the snow crush your dreams.

When The Snow Started Coming Down. We all fail. We all lose courage, struggle, doubt ourselves and seemingly give up, but the last one on the list is not necessarily true.

Just because we fall, doesn’t mean that that is the end, game over, forget your goals and ambitions.

Some years ago, fresh off yet another batch of panic attacks and agoraphobia, I was starting to gain confidence. Through previous experience, I was accepted to take a Boxing Coaches course in the Midlands (UK).

My confidence was soaring leading up to the course, and my wife and I made plans to open our own Combat Academy.

And then the day drew nearer, and the doubts started to rent space in my head.

At first, I was able to ignore them and carry on training for the course, but when that day eventually arrived, the doubts had now moved in to live in my thoughts permanently. They would eventually infest me.

We set off on an Autumn morning, my wife and I making the journey from our home in North Wales to Northampton, my bag packed with pads, gloves, skipping ropes and the hopes of my family.

Except their encouragement was drowned out by the voices in my head.

“Who are you to become a Boxing Coach? Why are you having ideas above your station? Don’t you remember the beatings you took in school; don’t you recall your anxiety snapping at your heels, and can’t you hear your father’s voice, telling you that you belong in his factory, and his factory alone?

I tried to ignore them, tried to concentrate on the three-hour drive ahead of us. I lasted forty-five minutes. Just before we headed past Wrexham, not even a stone’s throw from home yet, the voice got too big, but it was accompanied by a beautiful sight. It started snowing.

The beautiful flakes from the sky were my way out, and, turning to Julie, I blurted out the excuse.

“We might get stuck in a blizzard. We’d best go home,” I said.

Julie nodded. I am sure she knew the truth, but she simply held my hand and said, “If that is what you want. If that is what you think is best.”

And so I did a ‘U-turn’, and forty-five minutes later I was back home, drinking a cup of tea, watching television and basking in my shame, because that is what I felt. Shame.

Looking out of the window I saw my excuse that was snow had turned to sunshine, and as I read back through the contents of the course I was supposed to attend, I realised the people who had actually made it to the course, the brave ones, would now be getting to know each other over coffee, and in another twenty minutes would be begin their adventure with a tutorial on skipping. They skipped rope; I skipped an opportunity.

Training for the fight, mentally and physically.

And then I poured my lukewarm tea down the drain in disgust.

The next day was worse, as I faced people who were going to enrol in our Academy, and their faces read disappointment as I relayed my heroic tales of how I battled the elements to get home safely yesterday.

As they dispersed, I could swear I heard one say, “I didn’t see any snow yesterday.”

My shame burned deeply, but so did my desire to put things right, and so that very same day, I made a plan. I went running, I hit the bag, I trained, and I realised I was in the best physical shape of my life. It was my mental attitude that needed work.

I marked the calendar, another course in Coventry a month or so later, this time a Combat course with some of the best fighters in the country. I was determined to be there, snow be damned.

Every negative thought was countered with two positives, every snide remark about my ambitions triggered off memories of previous fights, previous victories and awards, and now I knew I was ready to move up a step, take myself to the next level.

Was it easy? Not at all, but yes, as the saying goes, it was worth it, as a few weeks later, on a Sunday morning, my lovely Julie and I loaded up the car and headed to Coventry. This time, there would be no turning back.

The three-hour drive was torture, every exit on the motorway an escape route, but one I refused to take.

And then I arrived at the training centre, and my fears grew tenfold, but so did my courage. Being welcomed by great people, shaking hands with Combat legends, and then getting bashed and battered for five hours did more for my self-esteem than anything had before.

Getting bashed, battered and bruised and loving every minute of it.

It was over, and over far too quickly, but I returned, month after month after month, and the voices in my head grew quieter. They now knew their place.

That day in Coventry changed my life, and though I would fall again (as we do), I would always get back up, and sometimes it felt like I never looked back.

So be brave, readers. Ignore or battle the external voices that ask, “Who do you think you are?” Likewise with your own inner voices who snigger at you, mock you and challenge you. Have a louder voice, have a braver voice and go on to achieve whatever you want in life.

Don’t let the snow stop you.