I’m the kind of person who genuinely loves a lot.

Running. Weightlifting. Karate. Kickboxing. Motorbikes. Reading. Movies. Business. Ukulele. Probably a few more if you catch me on a caffeinated day.

And for years I told myself that was a strength. “I’m multifaceted.” “I’m curious.” “I like variety.” All true.

But here’s the uncomfortable bit: if I try to be good at everything, I end up mediocre at most things… and quietly frustrated with myself. Not because I’m lazy. Because I’m split.

So I’ve had to adopt a rule that sounds harsh but feels like freedom:

“I love doing loads of things… and that’s exactly why I have to be ruthless.”

Not ruthless as in joyless. Ruthless as in clear. Ruthless as in honest. Ruthless as in I stop pretending everything is equally important.

Focus isn’t doing less. It’s choosing the main thing.

Most people hear “focus” and translate it as “give up everything fun and grind yourself into dust.”

That’s not focus. That’s punishment.

Real focus is simpler:

Choose a main thing for this season — and make everything else either support it, maintain you, or stay small.

The problem isn’t that you do lots of things. The problem is when you do lots of things while claiming they’re all priorities.

Because the body doesn’t care what you say matters. It responds to what you consistently train.

And if you’re training eight different directions at once, don’t act shocked when you don’t feel like you’re going anywhere.

The sneaky lie: “It all supports my goal.”

Here’s where people get clever in the worst way.

They don’t say, “I’m avoiding committing.”

They say, “It’s all part of the bigger plan.”

Example: I love running and weightlifting. And I can genuinely justify them as pillars that support my karate — conditioning, strength, resilience, confidence in my body.

That’s true.

But it can also be a trap.

Because you can use “support work” as a way to feel productive without doing the thing that actually moves the needle.

It’s easier to go for a run than it is to face your weak areas in sparring. Easier to lift than to drill the boring basics. Easier to “stay busy” than to “stay accountable.”

So here’s the gut-check:

If it ‘supports the goal’ but it regularly replaces the goal… it’s not support. It’s escape.

Support should feed the main thing, not eat it alive.

A simple framework: Main Thing / Supporting Cast / Joy

If you’re someone with too many interests (hi), you need a structure that doesn’t rely on motivation or “being sensible.” You need a filter.

This is mine:

1) The Main Thing
The one focus for this season. The thing you want meaningful progress in over the next 12 weeks.

2) The Supporting Cast
A small number of activities that directly strengthen the main thing. Clear link. Clear dose. Controlled.

3) Joy + Identity
Things you do because you love them. Not because they’re “productive.” They’re allowed — but they don’t get to run the calendar.

And here’s the crucial fourth category nobody likes:

4) Parked
Not dead. Not “quit forever.” Just not now.

That word matters. “Parked” removes drama. It’s not a breakup. It’s a season.

Seasons change. Your priorities should too.

This is where a lot of “focus” advice fails. It talks as if you’re a robot with infinite time and zero responsibilities.

You’re not.

At 23, my only real responsibility was rent. I could go all-in on whatever obsessed me at the time, train late, recover by sleeping in, and restructure my week on a whim.

At 47, with a wife and teenagers, that’s not the game anymore.

Time is tighter. Energy matters more. You can’t just burn the candle at both ends and call it ambition. You’ve got people who need you functioning — not constantly fried, injured, or mentally elsewhere.

So I’m not less driven now. I’m playing a different game.

And here’s the important nuance: those earlier seasons weren’t wasted. The 25-year-old version of you is often the reason you even have the identity you’re trying to protect now. The experiences you built back then shape your values now.

You’re not starting again. You’re editing.

Identity threads: who you are, even when you pause

There’s another layer to all of this: identity.

Some things aren’t just hobbies for me — they’re threads that run through my whole life.

I’ve dipped in and out of karate for decades. I’ve gone through periods where I didn’t train for years. But I never fully left it behind. Same with running — on and off, but always a return.

Even during gaps, I still thought of myself as a karateka. I’m a runner even if I haven’t run in months.

That might sound irrational, but it’s actually a useful insight:

Identity isn’t a daily streak. Identity is what you repeatedly return to.

That’s why you can “pause” something without losing yourself.

But — and here’s the brutal honesty bit — identity can also be a trap if you’re not careful.

Because you can cling to an identity in your head while your behaviour quietly contradicts it.

You can say “I’m a runner” while never running, just buying kit and watching videos. You can say “I’m building a business” while mostly tinkering and avoiding the uncomfortable work that actually grows it.

So use this as a test:

Identity threads should be kept alive with proof — not just ideas.

Minimum dose: stay you without stealing from your main thing

This is where calm, realistic focus comes in.

You don’t have to “do everything” to stay connected to who you are. You just need a minimum dose.

Think of it like keeping a fire lit. You don’t need a bonfire every day. You just need enough fuel to stop it going out.

Example minimum doses:

• If karate is your identity thread: one class a week + 10 minutes of drills at home.
• If running is your identity thread: one easy run a week, even if it’s short.
• If lifting supports your main thing: two sessions a week, not five.

The goal isn’t to become a monk. The goal is to stop letting “everything I love” compete for the same limited time and energy.

The 12-week ruthless plan (do this, don’t overthink it)

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Yep… that’s me,” here’s your next step:

Write this sentence:

“For the next 12 weeks, my main thing is ___, supported by ___ and ___, and I’m parking/capping ___.”

That’s it.

One season. One main thing. Two supports max. Everything else gets capped or parked.

Then ask yourself once a week:

“Did I do the main thing first — or did I do support work because it felt easier?”

Because that’s the real battle. Not between you and your busy schedule.

Between you and your own avoidance.

Final thought

You don’t need to become a different person to find focus. You just need to stop lying to yourself about what “counts.”

Doing lots of things isn’t the enemy. Doing lots of things while expecting mastery in all of them is.

So be ruthless — not with joy, but with priorities.

Pick your season. Pick your main thing. Keep your identity threads alive with a minimum dose.

And stop trying to live 23-year-old freedom inside a 47-year-old life.

That’s not ambition.

That’s just refusing to grow up.