In this series, the team reflect on what the Olympics mean for NZ ag.
Watching the Olympics from the couch, it can be easy to forget that for every gold-medal dream realised, the lives of dozens of athletes just hit a brick wall.
The talent of these athletes is something to marvel at. Someone wise once likened this talent to being graced with a black stallion – full of raw power, but it takes a lifetime to learn to ride the thing.
As spectators, we witness thousands of hours of repetitive training come down to a single performance. For many athletes, the outcome of that race is everything, and it can all be over in seconds.
It’s easy to miss as one surfs the channels. Before I know it, the camera pans off the athletes and it’s onto the next race – or I’m off to the next channel. Their time in the spotlight is over.
The spotlight lingers a little longer for those who win a gold medal. And so it should. That athlete has just reached the pinnacle of their career, capping years of discipline and sacrifice.
Over the course of their sporting career, an athlete refines a process that drives their success. This process becomes almost automatic in the heat of competition. Each day offers a chance to fine-tune this process in pursuit of those critical seconds – a small tweak in nutrition, a change in technique or a new pre-race routine.
As the Paris Olympics come to a close, many athletes will enter a period of deep reflection and face the inevitable question, ‘What comes next?’
What does the future hold after reaching the heights in a very specialised discipline?
Some will chase further glory. Others will choose retirement and accept that the time has come for a new life. Often, this means going from the peak of one profession to the bottom of another. A shift that comes with operating in the “real world”, with entirely different expectations. The sporting world is straightforward, it has a clear purpose and a simple goal: win. Goals in the real world are much harder to measure.
I have witnessed many who have gone from the top of their game to struggling with the mundane realities of life after the competition stops. This is not ring-fenced to sport. Talk with many in the farming community who have achieved serious accolades or awards, and you will hear similar stories. Some were burnt out. The time, effort and intense focus they had placed on success took the love from what they do.
A transition can be messy. In the short term, many look like a dog chasing a car as they learn a new job or non-competitive workplace relationships through trial and error.
In my view, those who make a successful transition learn how to play the long game and recalibrate their meticulous process to match. They craft a new vision, away from competing with peers to making big leaps in their new chosen area. Much of this comes with finding new purpose within their chosen pursuit.
I can’t help but feel like New Zealand’s primary sector is at a similar point to hundreds of high-performance athletes in Paris right now. With a mantelpiece full of previous golds in the agriculture race, do we choose to chase further glory with a simple goal of doubling the value of our primary exports over the next 10 years, or pivot to some new vision – prepared to be a novice again, as we reach for a new purpose?
