I remember when all those where just fields

and why not to listen to CiCi

" I remember when all this was just fields."

(insert eye roll emoji)

How often have we heard those words from our grandparent's or parents' mouths as we visited a shopping center or drove along a new road?

Anyways, there will be more on that later.

I was lucky and blessed to be invited down to talk about a winning mindset in sports and the resilience to keep going, even when the odds are against us, to the fantastic and dedicated ladies of Gorey Rugby club, as preparation for their upcoming Leinster final. (huge thanks to their coach Sue)

Where I was the one who was the person meant to educate, I gained so many lessons in that 4-hour roundtrip.

While speaking about a severe injury that threatened my football career, the club captain (who was on crutches due to a bad knee ligament injury) got up and left.

I’m not going to lie. It threw me for the rest of the talk, wondering what did she hear?

Did something trigger her?

Is she ok?

And as good as I thought it went, that inner critic played in my head all the way home, wondering how she was and if my words had wished she didn't show up in the first place.

What was intended as a talk to hope to inspire just one person (similar to these emails each week) may of set someone back on their road to recovery.

This action was indeed the worst possible outcome in my eyes.

And CiCi (my inner critic's name, by the way) was letting me have it.

And as I had spoken about it to the girls, I decided to drive through where I used to live, Newcastle Co.Wicklow, a small, one pub, one shop, last regular service bus stop, prefab as a church kind of place.

Depressing, to say the least, when you lived in Dublin till age 12/13.

But the home was made with love and memories, thanks to my mam.

As I drove into the village, I was instantly back to being a child, and I saw all the places we "adventured," to the hiding places used to avoid the village bullies, to that one bus stop that took me into Dublin (nearly 2 hours) or home from school each day.

But as I looked around and drove through my old housing estate, there was a new road down a hill filled with more houses. There was now a garage, a cafe, TWO shops, and a car driving down the sea road. I saw a new GAA club, housing estates galore, and the Newcastle Airstrip (we didn't even have a car)

And behind the pub was a site filled with even more housing estates not yet built, and guess what?

"I remembered when all of them were just fields."

How similar are our lives to those fields?

When things have run their course or perhaps are not serving us in the right way anymore, it's time to start fresh and build again, making way for something new.

We live the same way for so long, and then suddenly, we see it is time to change and transform into something different.

Change into something new that brings more profound happiness to ourselves and others.

And how scary is that change, and how resistant are we to it

(if only we all got millions of euros off the developers as the farmers did)

Whether we make that change is down to us as individuals, and however life pans out, there are areas of learning.

I left Newcastle with the idea I was moving to England to become a professional footballer, to make my family proud, and to be able to help and inspire others.

I returned there again after sharing my story of disappointment, years of hurt, and lack of belief in myself and how it pushed me to where I am today, hoping it would inspire others.

IT DID.

On my return home, I received the most amazing, heartfelt, thankful voice note from the captain's mother, who apologized for her having to leave early. What she heard during the time she was there was so inspiring. She explained exactly how she felt at this time and how it has given her an extra boost on her road to recovery.

Finally, she felt understood, and someone related to how she felt.

Sina was that ONE person I wanted to make a difference in their day with and inspire with my talk, and she didn't even hear it to the end.

That short voice note allowed me to put CiCi (the inner critic) back in her box.

Helping me remember how we see things or what our minds tell us, most of the time, is so far from the actual truth.

As always, thanks for reading.

Marcus