Ramblings of a 54 Year old

I’m writing this from work in Onslow.
It’s my 54th birthday.

The day started slow. I’m short on sleep and trained hard last night, so I woke sore and tired. That familiar heaviness you feel when you ask something of your body and it hasn’t quite caught up yet.

But there was a quiet moment of satisfaction too. My body is changing. I can see it. I can feel it. Muscle returning. Fat leaving. Lightness where there used to be drag.

Five weeks ago I set myself a simple challenge...three months to get to 90kg and around 10% body fat. Not out of vanity. Out of curiosity. Out of respect for what a body can still do when it’s asked properly.

I haven’t felt like this since my rugby days. And that was another life ago.

What’s struck me most isn’t how hard I’ve trained....it’s how consistently I’ve shown up. I’ve broken the plan. Missed sessions. Eaten things I shouldn’t have. But I never stopped paying attention. I never stopped moving. I kept returning to the work.

Consistency, I’ve learnt, is a form of self-respect. It says: I’m worth coming back to.

Being 54 feels like standing on a small rise and looking back without flinching.

Last night I asked three of my sons what their favourite memories of me were. Their answers surprised me. They weren’t the big things. Not the sacrifices or the moments I thought mattered. They were small, ordinary moments... things that felt like nothing at the time.

And yet they lodged themselves in my boys’ hearts.

It reminded me that we’re rarely the best judges of our own impact. Our children carry versions of us that we never quite see... just as I still carry my father as larger than life, despite knowing all his flaws and failings. He’s still the best man I know.

Hearing my sons talk about me made me realise that, in their eyes, I might occupy that same impossible space.... human, fallible, but solid.

That thought stayed with me.

At 54, with a life that’s been varied, chaotic, adventurous, and at times reckless, it’s grounding to know that something good has come through me and landed in others.

So Ive taken stock.

I’m adventurous.
Disciplined.
Brave and direct.
Capable of loving deeply and without half measures.

I’m also harsh at times.
Judgemental.
Intense.
And I can be cruel when the people I love are threatened.

But the difference now is this: I’m no longer confused by myself.

I understand my motivations. I recognise my patterns. I can sit with my darker traits without either denying them or letting them drive the wheel. I’ve become comfortable with introspection... not as self-criticism, but as honest self-inquiry.

That comfort didn’t come naturally.

It came through journalling. Through writing without an audience. Through learning to ask myself better questions. And eventually, through learning to extend to myself the same grace I try to give others.

The greatest shift in my life hasn’t been confidence.... it’s humility.

Not the kind that shrinks or submits. But the kind that pauses.

Humility, I’ve learnt, is the willingness to take a breath before forming a position. To ask: Is this truth, or is this just perspective? And to consider how my behaviour lands in the world, not just how justified it feels internally.

That pause has softened me without weakening me. It’s given me strength without armour.

Today I thought about how lucky I am.

Two close friends of mine are Iranian.... thoughtful, generous, kind people. I asked one how their family was coping with the situation back home. I saw the worry in their eyes, but their response was simple: They’re okay. We’re managing. We’ll work it out.

Even in uncertainty, they were protecting me from their pain.

There’s a quiet dignity in that. A humility that doesn’t announce itself.

It reminded me how narrow our own concerns can be, and how much grace exists in the world if we bother to notice it.

Being 54 means I no longer rush to take sides. I’m more interested in intent than identity. More curious than reactive. Less convinced I need to be right.

It also means I feel an obligation to the generation coming up behind me.....not to hand them answers, but to help them develop discernment. To navigate a world that has always been messy, but is now noisier, faster, and more distorted by power and money than ever.

If wisdom has any value at all, it’s in helping others think clearly, not think like you.

I’m glad I’m 54.

The world feels less frightening now, not because it’s safer, but because I trust humanity more. I believe....quietly, stubbornly....that we’ll eventually see through the manufactured division and remember how to live with difference.

I’m grateful for the people who’ve found their way to my writing and reflections. People willing to sit with complexity. People who seek truth even when it unsettles them. People who challenge dominant narratives without losing their humanity.

Yes, this has been self-indulgent.

But it’s my birthday, and I’m allowed one day to stand still and reflect.

To those who read, who question, who still care enough to think deeply.....thank you.
To those who offer grace, tolerance, and forgiveness.....thank you.
To those who enrich my life.....you know who you are....I love you

I’m 54.
Still learning.
Still becoming.

And that feels like a good place to be.