Metamorphosis - Stefan’s Week-notes 12/07/202
Inspired by the weeknotes of friends and coachees including John Fitzgerald, Steve Messer and Nour Sidawi - I thought I'd give it a go.
Weeknotes 5–12 July 2025
Some weeks don’t come in with a bang. They unfold.
This one has been like that - a quiet unfurling. On the bike, back in meaningful rooms, back in tune with something I’d half-forgotten I was missing. Conversations that matter. Challenges that land. Music that moves. And through it all, a question I can’t quite put down: What’s the difference I’m here to make - and where does it begin?
1. What went well this week
One of my coachees had THE conversation. The kind that defines a career, reshapes perceptions, and sets the tone for what’s next. It came on the back of a coaching session where we explored a simple but powerful shift: What might the other person need from you - rather than just what you want to say?
Sometimes, leadership calls for that kind of recalibration. You have to meet the moment on its terms, but still in your way. That’s the tension, and the art, of systems leadership. The equilibrium between what you want, what’s needed, and what someone else wants… that’s politics. And it matters.
As Manfred Kets de Vries says, “Every organisation is a system of hopes and fears, of power and control, of meaning and confusion. To lead within it is to constantly manage not just tasks, but the anxieties that come with change.”
That quote and a lot of the sessions I run are about surfacing those undercurrents, navigating the politics with integrity, and helping someone move into their next chapter with courage and clarity.
Training wise, I held a full week of training this week on and off the bike. Legs remembering, lungs waking up, something in me rebalancing. And today, as I write this, my legs sore and more core tight from yesterdays workout - I’m mindful to just take it easy today and tomorrow - in readiness for next week’s training. More happens in the rest, they say, than on the bike - so I’m going to embrace that whilst juggling the kids.
On the family front, Will came sixth in his first county - level sprint - no spikes, no start-line coaching, just raw determination and good humour. That kind of natural talent is exciting to watch, especially when it’s paired with joy and it’s your own son. I’m so proud of him and his grandad, a massive sportsman would have been proud of him too.
And Vera - a maths award this week. Not the subject she usually shines in, which made it even better. The delight on her face said everything. Some wins are loud; some are quietly hard-earned. This one was the latter, and I could not be more chuffed for her.
2. What lit me up
A conversation with a former coachee lit something in me this week. The chat didn’t just revisit the past, but reframed the present.
We’re doing reciprocal coaching now, catching up, holding space for each other in a way that feels generous and energising. They asked a question I’m still carrying: What’s the one difference you want to make in the world, Stef? What do you want to fight for? They know me well.
It’s a build on the conversation I’ve had with myself all year, a refinement of my focus, not a change.
The answer? Clear: fairness, equality, justice. Not as lofty ideals, but as felt truths. As something that shows up in how I coach, how I parent, how I ride. In who I choose to walk beside, and what I cannot ignore.
That conversation was more than a catch up. It was a mirror - and a flare. One which I’m going to use to light my path going forward.
Another element of the week which lit me up, happened just a few hours earlier, I’d been out on a 90km ride in the sun with my endurance coach, Joe Staunton. We covered ground in every sense - legs ticking over as the conversation ranged from motivation to business, life, leadership, and even a bit of anthropology. What got me excited, is the the overlap in the work we both do.
Joe works from the sports side - into work, rest, play, and system enablement. I come from the leadership side - into work, rest, play, and systemic impact. And we meet, meaningfully, in the middle around sustenance. The deeper fuel beneath endurance in all its forms.
We’ve committed to sitting down to plan something together. Something that draws from both worlds and speaks to #humanperformance at every level. Good people, great work, and movement that restores as well as challenges elite athletes; I genuinely cant wait.
3. The chat I can’t stop thinking about
It was a moment of real challenge - and it needed to happen.
A coachee was reflecting on what phase of life they’re in, narrating a shift that sounded tidy but didn’t quite land. Something in me knew I had to say it: Is that really true? Is that really what you need right now?
It was not about being provocative for the sake of it. It was about holding up a mirror to what they’ve lived over the last three years - the stretch, the growth, the pain, the pattern. And gently but firmly asking if the story they were telling matched the truth of their experience.
At the end of the session, they paused. Took it in. And then said, simply: “Thank you. I needed that.”
It reminded me that challenge, when it’s rooted in care, is not confrontation. It’s clarity. It’s saying: I see more in you than this version you’ve just offered. And I trust you enough to say so.
Thats what I’m here for - fairness, equality and justice to yourself (and in turn those around you).
4. What shifted
In me? Joy returned. Not in one big moment, but across the weave of the week - back to coaching, back to big, meaningful chats, back to being in spaces where the stakes are real, the scope is broad, and the conversation meets me where I am.
Part of me feels ‘bad’ for saying this, but there’s a different kind of energy when I’m working with leaders who carry real weight - where the decisions shape not just teams, but systems. The work deepens. There’s less direction in my questions, more distillation and less construction and more combustion.
This week brought me back to what I love; asking sharper questions, speaking truth with care, knowing the person across from me gets it because they’re living it too.
The shift in who I was coaching this week made everything feel lighter and more alive. It reminded me: this is where I do my best work.
And that doesn’t mean it always had to ne senior leaders, no - I’m working with some fantastic emerging leaders - but they’ve already got ‘it’ - it just needs unleashing.
Side note: Maybe I’ll write a blog post on what ‘it’ is.
5. What am I wrestling with
I’m wrestling with a drum I want to beat loudly. It’s the one that’s been banging in the background all week - the one that made me ask: Is it just me, or is it getting hotter here in the UK? No… this is climate change, isn’t it?
And somehow, we’re still pretending it’s normal.
There’s no shortage of causes, projects, or movements I care about. But this one is different. It doesn’t just ask for attention - it demands it. It’s the drum I keep circling back to, the one that stirs a mix of urgency, grief, and responsibility.
I’m not just questioning what I could give my energy to - I’m questioning what I must. What’s worth burning bright for, without burning out? What would it mean to centre this more fully - without losing the ability to be present for clients, collaborators… and especially my kids?
They’re growing up in this. They deserve clarity, courage, and action - not just from governments or systems, but from me too.
And I’m also holding a deeper question - one I haven’t fully worked through yet:
How does this connect to fairness, equity, and justice?
I know the links are there - between climate and class, race, health, disability, opportunity.
But right now, I’m letting them develop - the neural pathways connecting more deeply. Not forcing it. Sitting with the complexity. Listening for truth that’s not yet fully in words.
Sometimes reflection isn’t about drawing the lines - it’s about noticing the weight of the pen in your hand. And the more I wrestle with it, the more I can use that feeling, that acknowledgement to drive my work and the conversations that I know are coming in my work.
6. What do I see at the edges
At the edges, I’m noticing a lot of overlap here on LinkedIn. Similar messages, similar language, similar models. A shared sense of purpose that’s bigger than self - which is good—but also a kind of echo chamber forming.
It’s made me pause and ask: what do I bring that’s different?
And the answer, I think, is in the blend. Success in multiple arenas. A coaching-first approach with the experience to step in and shape, not just reflect. The willingness to hold the process and the pressure.
As I see it; True strength in leadership comes not from going it alone, but from surrounding yourself with a tribe that holds you accountable, challenges you honestly, and has your back. Whether as coach or coachee, we are teammates in the journey.”
And, to borrow the words of a client, the fact that I’m willing to sacrifice a lot for the cause - and for the people I serve. You can’t bottle that. You can’t replicate it with polish or positioning.
That edge is asking me to own what’s distinct - not loudly, but fully. And the next few weeks and months have to be about how I show more of that to those who are ‘watching’ as well as ‘playing’.
7. What did I notice or take in
I’m noticing an unfurling in many of my clients lately.
As their relationships deepen, the depth to which they can be challenged grows. Alongside that, their sense of purpose expands, blended with rising confidence and commitment.
They often arrive folded, brilliant but braced. Through the trust they build, they begin to stretch out - taking up more space, moving more freely, and leading with greater clarity.
And it’s wonderful to see that as their confidence grows in the room with me, and their openness to challenge themselves deepens, their thinking and ability to reconnect become bolder, more deliberate, and more determined.
That growth translates into real success and impact away from the room.
It’s like the coaching conversations, processes, and moments of reflection are the gold in the cracks of kintsugi - the art of repairing broken pottery with gold.
“…breakage and repair.. (are)… part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. It is about embracing flaws and imperfections, and seeing beauty in the broken and repaired.” From The Art of Kintsugi by Alexandra Kitty
In many ways, to be bolder, we have to break the binds of the old patterns that held us before - and then reconnect those pieces with wisdom, creating something stronger and more beautiful.
In my experience, the best leaders, wear their cracks with pride - but have found a way to consolidate then - so they are no longer cracks; they are wisdom.
8. A word I’m carrying
This weeks word - “The Metamorphosis of Purpose” (Yes, that’s four words, not one — I’m mixing it up this week.)
Purpose. Not the tidy, curated version - the real kind. The kind that doesn’t always fit neatly into a sentence or strapline, but lives deeper. The kind that stirs you, anchors you, moves you even when no one’s watching.
I’ve written often about deep-seated purpose - that fire inside - and lately, I’ve been circling back to where that purpose really comes from. For me, it lives in what I call the three R’s:
RALLY - What makes you want to rally towards or for something? The people, causes, or principles you feel called to stand beside and build with.
RAIL - What makes you want to rail against something? The injustices, patterns, or systems that erode dignity, fairness, or humanity - the things you simply cannot ignore.
REVEAL - What do you believe needs revealing? The truths that remain unspoken or unseen - in the world, in others, and within yourself - that have been silenced or overlooked.
Each pulls a different thread. Together, they weave something close to your why.
This week, as I reflected on these threads, I found myself thinking about how purpose is not fixed. It changes - it metamorphoses. It grows bolder, more refined, more vivid over time.
Like the transformation of a caterpillar into a butterfly - a process that requires breaking down and rebuilding, not just for survival but to take on a new, vital role in the ecosystem - purpose too demands shedding old assumptions and patterns to emerge stronger and more capable.
As the saying goes, “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.” That quiet, necessary upheaval is part of the journey toward a purpose that is more deliberate, deeply felt, and alive.
And I’m reminded - I may never fully ‘nail it.’ And that’s okay. Like my coaching work, it’s about becoming. It’s about growth. The unfolding. We can’t always reach THE destination - but in striving to grow as a human and in our daily practice - we become something else.
This week, I invite you to sit with the metamorphosis of your own purpose. To lean into the unravelling and the remaking. To hold space for the quiet work beneath the surface, knowing that it’s shaping something vital - something uniquely yours.
9. The question I’m living into
What’s my route into helping to address climate change?
My children's future depends on someone doing it. On many of us doing it.
I’ve helped a couple of leaders take that step. Aligning their influence, values, and platforms toward something that matters far beyond their immediate remit. Now, they are impacting their sectors. Bringing the climate conversation into boardrooms. Speaking on panels. Co-creating events. Building it into strategy. Taking it seriously. Making it part of the work.
This week, I worked on that question with an FD. We talked risk. Not just financial exposure, but the risk of not investing. In climate tech. In offsetting. In future proofing the infrastructure we will still rely on thirty years from now. We explored the cost of delay. The ethical responsibility alongside the shareholder one. The reputational risk of falling behind. Not just in reporting, but in action.
It was refreshing. Bold. Grounded in real leadership. A conversation that did not flinch from the scale of what is needed.
And still, the question sits with me too.
What is my route to do more? Not out of pressure. Out of presence.
It will not be answered overnight. But it needs to be asked. It needs to be lived with. Worked with. Embraced.
As a coach, I know the importance of the ecology check. That question we ask about goals - how will this impact not just you, but the system you are part of? What could be a greater ecology check than this - how will this contribute to making the world a better place?
And the truth is, as I wrote this, I realised something.
I am already doing it.
It is in the way I write. In the kind of leadership I support. It is in how I centre fairness, equity and agency. And how I help people reclaim and use their agency to act on what matters most.
So maybe the deeper truth is this.
I know how to help.
And maybe the real question is not how I help, but how I connect with more people who want to do this work. People who feel the weight of responsibility and possibility. People who are ready to act.
That is the question to lean into. Quietly. Deliberately. And with everything I have.
10. What I’m grateful for
I’m grateful for the emotion that surfaced for my dad this week.
For the way it came, unannounced, the draw to write a song.
Mid-song, unexpected and utterly true. I’d started writing early that morning, rough take, just capturing fragments. The verse found its feet, the middle eight arrived without warning, and then the words “now I hold you” came out of me. That’s when the tears did too.
It was the first song I’ve written in ages. Not polished, not planned - just something honest. I picked up the guitar and the words poured out - a song for my dad, who I lost a couple of months ago.
I shared it with the family as it was. Vulnerable, a bit off in places, but maybe that’s why it felt so real.
I’m grateful for music as a way of processing. For emotion that insists on being felt. And for the relationship that still moves me enough to sing through it.
Maybe the song isn’t just for him.
Maybe it’s from him too.
A reminder to keep feeling, keep creating, keep showing up real.
11. Where I’m rooted
I’m rooted in the Black Country; my birthplace, my backdrop, the ground that shaped how I see the world. That rooting matters.
It gave me a lens I still carry: one that sees fairness instinctively and notices when it’s missing. It’s why I flinch at injustice and why I cannot look away from inequality - especially across this shared land that so often fails to live up to its collective promise.
That root is not just history. It’s perspective. It reminds me who I am, who I stand with, and what I’m quietly holding every time I step into a room.
Place matters. And I’m grateful for where mine began.
I’m thinking of the words of Carl Chinn, who described the Black Country’s “spirit that reaches out from those who have gone to those yet unborn.” There’s something powerful in that. A kind of moral inheritance, passed on not just through stories, but through grit, humour, and an unshakeable sense of solidarity.
It’s not about nostalgia. It’s about remembering what you’ve been given - and carrying it forward. Quietly, steadily, and with care.
12. What I’m reading
Not much reading this week. I’ve been listening.
It’s Tour de France time, and I’ve been soaking up the WEDŌ and Sir Bradley Wiggins podcasts. The rhythm of the race, the commentary, the insights behind the scenes, it all feeds something in me.
It reminds me of my first ever presentation back in junior school, ten minutes on the Tour de France. I borrowed shirts, posters, and magazines from Russells to help bring it to life. Back then, nerves did not exist. I simply showed up and shared what I loved.
Nerves came later, especially in law school, where expectations weighed heavy and confidence took time to rebuild. It is a journey I see echoed in the leaders I coach.
They often start braced, sometimes folded in on themselves, carrying the weight of others’ expectations. But as trust grows, they unfurl, reclaim their confidence, and show up with purpose.
There is something about this time of year, the Tour de France, the scale of effort in the race, and the courage and grace of the riders, that invites reflection on our own paths.
One thing I did read is a piece on cyclist Ben Healy and the lessons he has had to learn to win again. It got me thinking, if I had my time again, what would I do differently? Not with regret, just with curiosity, with wonder about the routes taken and the ones still ahead. Then I caught myself. I do not need my time again. My time, like all of ours, is now. The present moment is the only place where change happens, where courage grows, and where leadership takes root. And the point about Ben is he brought that learning forward.
13. Closing thoughts
This week’s reflections remind me that change is rarely a single moment or a simple decision. It is more like aeration, a gradual stirring and letting in of fresh air, and evolution, a slow unfolding and becoming that reshapes who we are and what we stand for. Purpose does not just land fully formed; it breathes, shifts and grows through questions, challenges and quiet moments alike.
So rather than seeking one definitive answer or a clear path, I am learning to hold the space for ongoing transformation. To embrace the process with its hesitations, its leaps and its pauses, knowing that the difference I am here to make will emerge in that flow. It is about staying open, curious and steady in the becoming, not rushing toward a fixed endpoint.
And that feels like the kind of leadership and life worth showing up for.
See you on the road.
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For now; thank you
I am…
An executive coach who specialises in helping good people lead great things.
Good people care about others, our planet and beauty. Great things are changes for the betterment of society and all that lives within an around it.
It sounds big and fun - it is.
I'm also an endurance racing cyclist and a go. getter.
You can read more about me and what I do; how I work here